A Winter's Decision
by Quiet2885
Summary: Right before Don Juan, Christine decides to disappear for a while, not wanting to betray her Angel or become his prisoner. As this sets into motion a long chain of events, is it possible for our three main characters to ever find peace? EC. COMPLETE
1. Default Chapter

**This is just kind of a short story I thought up...not nearly as long as my first fic. It takes place right before the Don Juan performance and is based off the play and movie. Christine attempts to run away for a while...not wanting to betray her Angel or become his prisoner. As this sets into motion a chain of events, who will find Christine first? Aaah...I originally was going to have the audience decide the pairing, but I can't bring myself to write anything but E/C. Sorry R/C fans!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this fic. They belong to Gaston Leroux and some of the themes belong to Andrew Lloyd Webber.**

From the moment she stepped into the swirling arctic air, Christine Daae wondered if she was making a terrible mistake. The chill of winter seeped ruthlessly into the folds of her dress, freezing her pale skin to the point of numbness. A new snow had begun to fall from the sky, adding to the thick layer that had already accumulated upon the ground. Still, Christine continued to trudge forward, her heels digging into the white powder as she desperately made her way down the empty Parisian street, away from the Opera House...away from the decision that she would be forced to make that night...the decision and its consequences.

Every so often her foot lost friction, causing her to slide and sway on the ice that covered the ground. Holding her arms out for balance, Christine continued to move forward, searching for a carriage whose driver was just insane enough to be working on an evening such as this. For a moment, she thought there was none, the streets lying empty before her eyes. Finally, though, she spotted a carriage in the distance, its horses stopping to lap up the snow and the driver rubbing his gloved hands together quickly as he tried to warm himself. "Monsieur!" cried Christine, waving her hand in the air in an attempt to catch his attention. The swirling wind carried away her tiny voice, though, making it impossible for him to hear her. "Monsieur!"

The elderly driver looked up just in time to see the young woman lose all balance and slide to a heap of skirts upon the ground, letting out a slight wail as she fell. With a grunt, he got up from the warmth of his carriage seat and ran to where she lay, the snow crunching rapidly beneath his boots. They appeared to be the only two souls out there at the moment, as the snow had almost taken away all visibility.

"Are you all right, Mademoiselle?" he called rushing over to her hunched form. She looked up at him through her soaked brown curls with small tears flowing down her flushed cheeks, her mouth grimaced in pain. Slowly, she brought the throbbing ankle up to her eyes for closer inspection and saw that it was beginning to swell to a dull bluish color. Her head began to spin slightly with the anguish, and she blindly grasped on to the shoulder of the driver for support.

"Good Lord!" he exclaimed, gaping down at the injury. "You need to get to a doctor, quickly, Mademoiselle. Do you have anyone around here that you know?" Still clutching her ankle, she fought unconsciousness and hesitated. Of course there were plenty of people around that she knew...all of them thinking that she was safely preparing for the ill-fated opera within her dressing room. Revealing that to the driver, however, would mean returning to the nightmare...of facing everything...talking to Raoul...of seeing_ him_ again. She could no longer perform the accursed opera with her ankle in such a condition, but she would still be forced to return to the madness that had consumed her life this past year. With a deep breath, she looked up into the kindly grey eyes of the driver.

"No, Monsieur. I know no one here."

He shook his head with a sigh and looked around at the blanketed landscape. "Well, Mademoiselle, I shall try to get you to the nearest doctor, but it's quite a ways into the city. This weather is going to slow us down quite a bit, I am afraid." He scratched his balding head and sighed, before offering his arm to help her up from the frozen ground. Gratefully she took it, placing her arm around his shoulder as she hobbled through the snow and into the shelter of the covered carriage. Settling down into the plush red seat, she took one last glance at the looming Paris Opera House and let out a soft sigh of relief. The burning pain in her ankle subsided some, and she was able to drift off for a moment.

"Are you comfortable, Mademoiselle?" asked the driver, turning back to her with a sad smile. "We should be there in about an hour if we are lucky."

"Yes," she replied softy. "I am comfortable, Monsieur." He nodded his head and steered the horses out, finding his way through the rush of snowflakes as best as he could.

* * *

As the evening approached and the sky darkened, the Vicomte nervously pace back and forth in the empty hallway, impatiently waiting for Christine to come out in costume so that he could escort her to the stage. At his side, he kept a loaded rifle, just in case the Phantom made an earlier appearance than was expected. Looking at his pocket watch, he wondered what was taking her so long, a slight feeling of dread beginning to overtake him. 

Several hours earlier, Christine had abandoned his side, saying that she wished to be alone for a brief moment. Her eyes had been darkly shadowed, and she had a slightly nauseous expression on her face. He had reluctantly allowed her to go. "Well, it is no wonder that she is beginning to look ill," thought the Vicomte bitterly. "With that mad man on the loose, it is a miracle she can function at all." At least after tonight, the Phantom would be caught. After tonight, he and Christine would be able to live life peacefully together without a dark shadow constantly following them, its golden eyes glowing at them menacingly in the dark. The thought gave Raoul some reassurance.

"Christine!" he finally called out softly. "Are you almost ready? The opera begins in twenty minutes." The only response he got was the swift gust of wind against the roof. "Christine?" Slowly he made his way to the door and twisted the handle. To his dismay, he found it to be securely locked. A rush of fear ran through him, as he desperately jiggled the silver knob. "Christine!" he yelled loudly. "Open the door, please!" Still, there was no response. Raoul raised his broad shoulder and pushed it into the wooden door, trying with all his might to force it open. Realizing that the movement was futile against the structure, he backed up, trying to figure out which action to take next. What if _he_ had taken her already? He had to get a key!

Taking off down the hall in a mad scramble, the Vicomte ran to the office of the managers and pounded rapidly on the door, sending an echo throughout the corridor. "Monsieur Firmin! Monsieur Andre! Are you in there? It is Raoul de Chagny!"

"Yes?" came the irritated voice of Andre. "Come in." The Vicomte threw open the door in a swift motion and rushed in panting, his face white. "What on earth is the matter? Is Christine ready to perform?"

It took the Vicomte a second to get the words out. "I do not know where she is. She is missing! I...I need a key to her room. Quickly!" Andre's mouth fell agape and his eyes widened.

"What do you mean she is not there? We have an entire audience, not to mention the entire Parisian armed forces, awaiting her performance tonight. She has to be there!" The manager got up and nervously began to pace back and forth, trying to clear his head. "The...the only one who has the keys to those rooms is Madame Giry. You shall have to ask her. I shall go...try to delay the opera for a while." He cursed under his breath and flew out of the room, leaving the Vicomte alone to find the ballet instructor for himself.

"Madame Giry!" the Vicomte cried rushing down the hall. "Madame Giry!" With utmost relief, he saw her step out of one of the rooms on his right and glance up curiously at him. A saddened expression lay her face, as she was awaiting for what she knew would be a dastardly opera that night...for at least one soul.

"Yes, Monsieur?" she asked, noticing the extreme look of distress in his eyes.

"Christine is gone!" he exclaimed. "Her door is locked, and there is no sound from within her room. Good God! Do you think he has taken her?"

Madame Giry pursed her lips in distressed thought for a moment. It would not be like him to stage his entire opera only to take Christine before it even began. From what she had witnessed over the years, he was a man of carefully crafted plans. But...he had become so completely mad these last few months with his love for the girl that she did not know what he was capable of. Perhaps he had taken Christine that night. "I do not know, Monsieur." She shook her head sadly. "But let us open the door to her room." Taking the mass of jingling keys from the wall, they ran back to the dressing room and unlocked the door. As they swung it open, they saw that the room was indeed empty, a slight draft softly rustling the silk curtains. Christine was gone.

"Damn!" cursed Raoul, running his hands frantically through his blonde hair. "He must have gotten to her somehow! There is no other explanation." From the distance, he could hear the audience begin to grumble loudly over the delay of the opera as the managers attempted to calm them down. "Madame Giry...do you know where they are? Please...you must tell me. Christine's life could be in danger."

Madame Giry sighed, knowing she was possibly sealing the fate of the Phantom with the revelation. Yet...if he had kidnaped Christine...she could not stand by as the young girl's life was destroyed. "Yes, I know, Monsieur. I shall take you part of the way."

**For those who haven't read my earlier works, I am fully aware that the Phantom has a name. But...no one else in the story knows. As this story is taken more from the play, Madame Giry did not rescue Erik as a small boy. She merely served as a sort of message deliverer for him.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed! For those who read the first chapter's comments before I revised them, I changed it to where the story will definitely end E/C. Hope that's ok...**

**This story may seem a little slow at first, and I know it's kind of hard to tell what Christine is thinking right now. In the next chapter I'll go into it in more detail. Part of the premise behind this story, though, is that Christine is actually given some alone time to think instead of being dragged around from one situation to the next.**

Even within the bounds of the covered carriage, Christine could still feel the cold nip relentlessly at her hands and face. In some ways the frigid air was a relief, as it made the growing pain in her ankle much less noticeable. At the same time, though, she knew that the winter weather was slowly wreaking havoc upon her body, and that if she did not get inside soon, she would be facing much worse than an injured ankle. Drifting in and out of sleep, she couldn't help but smile wryly to herself. Well, if nothing else, she certainly had done a fine job of brushing her other troubles from her mind.

As the driver slowly continued on, he stopped every so often to throw a glance back at the young woman. What on earth was she doing out in these treacherous conditions by herself? She certainly was not dressed for the part of a street waif, and she looked as if she had come from some sort of warm shelter. He pondered it for a brief moment, before deciding it really was none of his business. His sole mission was to get her to the doctor, and soon, for she was beginning to turn the color of the landscape. "Are you still all right, Mademoiselle?" he asked her through chattering teeth. "We should be there in ten minutes or so. It took me a bit longer with that snow drift we encountered back there, but over all we have made good time."

She managed a small smile and raised her head. The driver's voice seemed to echo distantly from far off, and she dimly realized that she was slowly beginning to drift away from reality. "I am all right, Monsieur," she softly murmured, wrapping her arms tightly around her body for warmth. By the dazed look in her eye, though, he could tell that she was not going to be all right for much longer. Despite the slick conditions, he quickened the pace of the horses and was relieved to soon see the small stone hospital resting in the distance.

As he came toward the building, he gently tugged the reins and let the horses come to a slow halt so as to jostle the poor girl as little as possible. Quickly jumping out of the carriage, he went to the back to assist her, hoping she had managed to stay awake during those last few moments. She gazed up at him through glassy brown eyes as he offered his shoulder to her for support. Accepting the gesture, she shifted her weight against him and climbed out, feeling the wet snow dull the ache in her foot. The driver slowly helped her walk into the building, receiving the new found warmth with gratitude and looking for a place to set her down. As he laid her into one of the leather armchairs in the entry way, she gazed up at him with a distant smile.

"Thank you, my Angel," she said softly before dropping down half unconsciously into the chair like a rag doll. As the driver quickly went to fetch the doctor, he could not help but sadly smile to himself for a moment. Perhaps he had acted as a sort of guardian angel for the girl that night. After getting help, he left the clinic without any notion whatsoever of requesting payment for his services.

Christine awoke from her dark yet warm dreams to find herself in a small gray room, laying atop of crisp linen sheets. The soft glow of gas lamps drifted around her, casting shadows along the bare walls and ceiling. With relief, she discovered that her body had found heat under a wool blanket. The pain in her ankle still lingered, though, and she shifted her leg in an attempt to make it fade. Turning onto her side, she savored the touch of the cool pillow against her cheek.

As she lay there quietly, she realized with some dismay that she didn't even remember entering the building. She didn't even pay the carriage driver! What had she been thinking going out on a night like this? For a second, Christine allowed herself to wonder what was occurring back at the opera house, hoping deeply that no harm had come to anyone that she...cared for. She also prayed that Raoul had found the letter that she'd written him, for if not he would likely attribute her disappearance to something else. That realization made her shiver.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the door creaking open, and she propped herself up slightly on her elbow to see who had entered. A man, probably around thirty or so, strolled in, wearing a white coat over grey slacks. Running a hand quickly through his cropped brown hair, he walked over to her and nodded in greeting.

"Well, I see you have finally woken up, Mademoiselle. I was a bit worried about you there for a moment. How are you feeling?"

She brushed a strand of hair from her face and gazed up at him tiredly. "I am...fine, I think," she said softly. "But my ankle still hurts quite a bit. Do you know what is wrong with it?" He nodded grimly.

"Yes, I took a close look at it while you slept. At first I had hoped it was just a sprain, but it appears you have broken it, Mademoiselle. It is not a severe break, but a break nonetheless. Thank God that driver brought you here when he did." She sighed in distress at the news, but the doctor's next inquiry made her cringe even more.

"Now, Mademoiselle. Do you suppose you could tell me your name and someone I could contact about your condition? A relative? A friend, perhaps?" She hesitated. For a moment, she was about to give him the name of her fiancé but stopped. Whatever mistakes she had made that night were already done. This was her one chance to remain anonymous and alone, without anyone telling her how to think or forcing her into making decisions on their whims.

"My name is...Annette Valerius. Everyone that I know is gone at the moment. I have no contacts, I am afraid." Her voice shook slightly at the lie, and she averted her gaze from his green eyes. She had made up the first name and taken the last from an old woman who had once cared for her and her father.

"I see." He cocked his head. "Well, then, I suppose you shall be forced to remain alone here for a while. My name is Doctor Edmond Murrell, and your nurse's name will be Cecile. We shall return later tonight to begin the wrapping of your ankle and to answer any questions that you may have." He got up and began his way back to the door, before pausing and turning around. "Sooner or later, Mademoiselle _Valerius_, you will need to remember the name of some person we can contact. I shall allow you to take your time, though." She gave him a slightly relieved smile at his patience and dropped her head back against the pillow, absorbing herself within her thoughts.

* * *

Had his mind not been completely consumed with visions of Christine Daae, perhaps Erik would have been more aware of the events rapidly unfolding within his opera house. All he could think of, though, was how he would finally merge her soul with his that night. He would sing the impassioned duet with her, professing his love for her once the song was complete...and she...she would finally desire him for the man that he was. She would finally look past the monster. 

These hopeless beliefs were the only defenses that he had against the relentless anguish of the last few months. The occurrence under Apollo's Lyre, discovering the engagement ring at the masquerade, the boy whisking her away at the graveyard...each event had slowly eaten away at him, devouring what little soul he had to begin with. Tonight everything would change, though. Tonight was the point of no return.

It was only when Erik began to make his way up to the higher grounds, dressed in the dark cloak and ready to take over the role of Don Juan, that he realized something was amiss. From the shadows, he saw that none of the actors or singers had even approached the stage. Workers were scurrying past each other, shouting indiscernible words, and the audience had begun to take on a dull roar as it waited impatiently for the opera to begin. Were they daring to disobey him? Were they daring to not perform his masterpiece? With desperate eyes he scanned the crowds for Christine but saw no sign of her. Concealing himself behind the curtains, he listened to the talk of two passing stage hands.

"Are you sure about this? It will be a disaster!"

"Yep, they say the Daae girl has gone missing tonight. Maybe she took off with that fiance of hers. Really can't say I blame her after all that has happened." The man shook his head in annoyance.

"Yes...well it would have been nice if someone had mentioned it to us. We went to a hell of a lot of trouble setting this here opera up. Not to mention it looks like Napoleon's entire army is positioned in the audience, waiting for the so-called Phantom to appear. Someone's going to get their head chewed off tonight, and it isn't going to be us."

As the two men continued their conversation off the stage, Erik felt a frantic rage shake his core. Desperately he searched through the crowds again, hoping that what he had just heard had been a twisted rumor...hoping to see her somewhere perfectly outfitted in her Aminta costume, awaiting the caress of Don Juan. There was no sign of Christine, though. Erik turned around and took off recklessly for the catacombs, shoving people out of his way as he passed. Once back in the darkness, he darted furiously down the passage that led to the dressing room mirror. Perhaps she was just late coming out...or perhaps he could grab her before she escaped him.

Tearing through the mirror, Erik stepped into the darkness of the little dressing room and looked around at the wretched emptiness. All of her stage clothes remained in place, hung up neatly and untouched. Flowers from her old performances still sat in vases around the room, drooping and slowly beginning to lose their petals. By the look of a melted candle, the room had been vacant for some time.

She had escaped with the boy...had denied him all hope of ever having her...leaving him in his misery and with an opera that could never be completed. So desperate was she to get away, that she had fooled the entire opera house into thinking that she would perform until the very end. "Christine..." he whispered, moving his fingertips over the soft fabric of the dresses as if trying to touch her in some last way. A deep anguish began to replace some of the anger. "You did not even sing for me one last time."

He was about to turn around and enter the mirror into the void of darkness again, when he suddenly spotted a thin white object next to his shoe. Quickly picking it up from the ground, he saw it was an envelope that must have fallen from the small table. With a glare of hate, he observed that it was addressed in fluid cursive to the Vicomte. In one angry motion, Erik ripped into the envelope and tore open the letter, settling his eyes on the short message before him.

Dear Raoul,

Upon receiving this letter, you will have likely noticed my absence. Though I am sorry to bring you so much trouble after all you have done, I can no longer blindly follow your lead tonight. Do you realize what you ask of me? You wish me to go upon that stage and risk my freedom...possibly even my life so that you can capture a man you know nothing of?

But I am not a coward. It is not just fear that makes me leave tonight. I cannot go through with this betrayal. As much pain as this man has caused, he has also given me a priceless gift, and I will not watch as he is captured or killed by my doing. Just for tonight, I am leaving so that this madness can pass without harm coming to anyone around me. Perhaps I will be able to see things with a clearer mind once I am alone. I pray that you will forgive me, and I promise that I will return to you soon.

_Christine _

After rereading it, Erik numbly folded up the letter and placed it carefully into his pocket, a strange sensation coursing through his veins. She had not left with the boy that night. She had left by herself...and partially to save _him_. Though he had known that the entire opera was a set up for his capture, he had not been aware that she had such a specific role in it. Briefly he wondered what would have happened once she realized that he was on the stage with her...now knowing that it was within her intentions to betray him.

But she had not sealed his fate that night, choosing to flee instead. For a moment, he felt an unfamiliar warmth overtake him, but it was quickly followed by a surge of dangerous energy. Wherever Christine had run to, he would make sure that he got to her first...before the Vicomte ever laid his eyes upon her. It would be his last chance to claim her, and then he would see just where her loyalties lay.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you guys so much for all of your reviews! It makes me write faster! **

**For the sake of this piece, the drop of the chandelier did not occur during Il Muto like in the play...meaning it has not dropped...yet...hmmmm**

Hands stretched out groping in front of him, the Victome blindly made his wave through the pitch-black caverns, nervously whipping around at every faint noise. Madame Giry had abandoned him several minutes before, saying that she would go no further...that it was as far as she could bring herself to capturing the masked man. Raoul was left alone to find Christine in the dark, and he was beginning to wonder if he should have at least brought several armed guards with him. His footsteps echoed emptily off the stone floors, and every so often he would let out a grunt as he roughly bumped into the various walls that lined the labyrinth.

After what seemed like hours of continuously descending into the dark, Raoul looked down to see that he had come to a body of water. He remembered vaguely that the ballet instructor had mentioned a lake, but she was not able to tell him how deep it was. Rolling up the sleeves of his cotton shirt, he was about to step into the freezing liquid, when he suddenly noticed a boat floating gently to the side. He stared at it curiously for a moment, but he wasn't sure whether its presence there held any significance or not. Using it would certainly be less hazardous to his health than swimming across the icy mass, though. Slowly the Vicomte climbed into the structure and took up the oar. He had quite a bit of practice in sailing over the last few years, so the little gondola was fairly easy to manage. Silently he made his way forward, glancing back every so often to make sure that a pair of eyes was not staring at him from back upon the shore.

The Vicomte felt a chill go down his spine as he rowed into the frigid darkness. Christine had not been lying when she spoke of the Phantom's "world of unending night." Looking back, most of her words upon the rooftop had been true, and perhaps if he had taken her more seriously that strange day...better judgements would have been made over the last few months.

Finally Raoul spotted a glow of light in the distance, and he turned the boat slightly so as to approach it. To his dismay, though, he soon found himself face to face with a large iron gate. Through it, he could vaguely make out an illuminated structure of some kind...likely the candle lit underground home that Christine had so vividly described. Climbing out of the boat, he sloshed his way through the shallow water and up to the portcullis. Gripping the cold metal bars with his hands, he tried to push it open but found that it would not budge. Did he dare call attention to himself? "Christine!" he said softly, in case she was nearby and alone. "Christine?"

There was no response except for the steady drip of water throughout the cave. Frantically he began to rattle the gate, not caring now if he was seen. "Monster! Are you in there? Let her go!" Nothing. Perhaps the Phantom was taunting him, waiting in the shadows to make his move. Unless of course ...they were not even there. That would explain the boat...

The Vicomte swallowed nervously. Up till then, he had been sure that the Phantom had whisked Christine off to his lair, and he had come fully prepared for a final confrontation with the mad man. Now...he wasn't sure what to think, but he knew that there was no way he was getting through the iron gate. Slowly Raoul began to back up. Unarmed and very much alone, he decided that it was time to return to the surface and plan his next move from a safer location. It was perhaps time to talk to people...see if they had seen anything of his fiancee before he made any more rash plunges into the dark. Climbing into the boat, the Vicomte rowed his way back to the other side, continuing to keep an eye on his surroundings.

Once ashore and out of the gondola, he felt his way through the cavern, this time with a little more certainty, and made his way up the long stairwell. From a distance, he could hear a commotion taking place up above, the sound of footsteps pounding against the floor. As he exited the catacombs and walked briskly back to the staged area, he observed mobs of people rapidly making their way out of the opera house, shouting frantically to one another. Looking into the enormous room curiously, though, Raoul could see no immediate reason to flee. Finally he spotted Monsieur Andre standing to the side of the stage with a dazed look on his face and approached him.

"What is going on here? Where is everyone going?" Raoul asked alarmed. "I still was not able to find Christine." The manager turned to him, eyes wide.

"I...we had to replace her in the opera," he stuttered. "We could not give refunds to the entire audience. It would have ruined us." Raoul stared at him with raised eyebrows.

"What? Whom did you replace her with?"

"Carlotta was the only one who knew the lines...so we placed her as Aminta against Piangi. Things...things were going fine for a while...but then they started their duet. One of the props fell from the ceiling, nearly crushing them both. There..there was a voice from above...and the chandelier started to shake. People began to flee. It...it was almost a catastrophe."

"Well, what do you expect?" exclaimed the Vicomte. "You put Carlotta up there...after everything? And I suppose the Phantom is still on the loose as well?"

Andre just nodded numbly, and Raoul shook his head in exasperation. "I do not have time for this now. I have to find Christine... and quickly." He left Andre and made his way through the onrushing crowds. If the Phantom had just been there...did that mean he did not have Christine? Frustration overtook him as he looked around aimlessly for anyone who could help him. Suddenly he spotted a young blonde girl making her way out of the room and remembered her to be Christine's friend and the ballet instructor's daughter. It couldn't hurt to ask.

"Mademoiselle Giry!" he called. "Meg!" She turned to him with surprise as people continued to rush by.

"Yes, Monsieur?" Though not formally acquainted with the handsome young Vicomte, she knew that he was Christine's fiancé. All of the ballet girls were quite envious over the engagement, though Christine did not talk of it often.

"You have not seen Christine lately, have you? I cannot find her anywhere, and I am worried."

Meg hesitated, biting her lip. "No, not of lately. But...but yesterday she mentioned something odd to me. I do not remember her exact words..."

"Please tell me, Meg."

"She said that...she did not know if she could go through with today. That...she felt very conflicted about everything. I asked her what she meant, but...she would not say." Meg was not sure if Christine wanted her to share their little conversation, but her safety was the most important thing at that moment.

"Is that all?"

"Yes, Monsieur." Raoul sighed.

"Thank you, Meg. You have been most helpful." As Raoul gazed around, he began to realize that perhaps the Phantom was for once not the direct cause of his problem.

_

* * *

__This is occurring while the events above are going on..._

Within seconds, Erik was back through the dressing room mirror and making his way along the dark corridor and to the boat. Before he departed, he wished to retrieve several items from his lair, knowing that it was possible that the police force would go down looking for him in his absence. Once he was out of the walls of his domain, he would be an easier target, and he wished to secure another weapon besides the deadly lasso.

Just as he was about to began the trek down the stone steps, Erik suddenly heard the sound of vociferous singing above him and froze at the top of the stairs. He would have recognized the impassioned words anywhere. They were the words of _his_ opera.

_...what raging fire shall flood the soul? What rich desire unlocks its door? What sweet seduction lies before us?..._

Darting back upwards and into the shadows, he listened more closely and recognized it to be Piangi's tenor voice singing the first part of the duet...his duet...their duet. Gritting his teeth in fury, he flew back to the staged area...wondering if Christine had suddenly decided to return and play Aminta. If she had dared to, there would be hell to pay, for his whole plan would be destroyed that night.

Rapidly he made his way up to the rafters to take a closer look at the stage without being seen by the armed guards. Just as he settled his gaze downward...the female part of the duet began.

_You have brought me to that moment where words run dry, to that moment where speech disappears into silence, silence..._

The noise cut his ears like knives, and he cringed in disgust. It was the voice of La Carlotta...singing Christine's part! They must have put her in to appease the audience, as she was the only other one who had known the lines. He glared down furiously as she sang the words boisterously, strutting around the stage and waving her arms around dramatically. Piangi stood somewhat stiffly to the side, uncomfortably awaiting his next part. Many of the audience members were shaking their heads at the spectacle, muttering quietly under their breaths. Before Erik did anything else that night, he would put a stop to this catastrophe. _Don Juan Triumphant _would not be assailed in such a manner.

_When will the blood begin to race, the sleeping bud burst in to bloom... _The couple began to approach each other on stage for their dance, awkwardly trying to fit themselves into the sensual movements that were scripted.

Tremoring in fury at the sight, Erik searched for a quick way to silence them. Looking upward, he saw a large piece of wooden scenery that was painted to represent crimson haze hanging above them and made his way over to the lines holding it up. With a quick motion he tugged the rope from its pulley and sent the heavy mass plummeting to the ground with a roar. It landed within feet of the tenor and the prima donna on the stage, sending shards of wood into the air around them. La Carlotta gasped in shock and gripped tightly onto Piangi's shoulders as the stage shook beneath her feet. Many of the audience members flew up from their seats in horror. A silence hung over the opera house as people waited for what was to come.

Taking this quiet moment to use his ventriloquist skills, Erik echoed his voice menacingly throughout the expansive room, still hidden deeply within the shadows. "_Don Juan Triumphant _has met its end! If everyone does not immediately remove themselves from my opera house at this moment...they will find themselves in quite the disaster!" To prove his point further, he yanked one of the ropes above him that held the massive chandelier, causing it to sway just slightly over the room.

As the shadow of the enormous lighting structure floated over them threateningly, the audience gasped and began to flee, not wanting to be crushed by the piece of metal should it fall. For a moment, the armed guards looked for a place to aim their rifles, but the owner of the rasping voice was not within their view. Soon they were given the order to move out as well, for there was no way they could get a clear aim of the Phantom with the mob of people surrounding them.

Erik smirked as the crowds quickly ran out, amused slightly by the chaos below. Without Christine, there was no _Don Juan Triumphant_. Had he not made that clear in his note? "After that performance," he though bitterly, "the managers had better heed his every whim."

At the same time, though, the rush of people provided him with an opportune time to take his leave. No one would notice him within the crowd. Jumping down in the dark and grabbing a wool scarf that had been left by a member of the audience, Erik wrapped it around his face and pulled up the hood of his Don Juan costume. He chose not to return to his lair. It was time to find Christine. The lasso would have to do as his sole weapon.

**Yeah...I let the chandelier live. Hope no one minds, but I was starting to feel sorry for it. Plus I don't think Erik had quite the motive to destroy his whole opera house, and I wanted some good to come from Christine's not betraying him...**


	4. Chapter 4

**Okay...here is a chapter that pretty much just explores Christine's thoughts. It kind of goes through the story that you all know. I tried to keep it brief so as not to bore anyone, but still go into what she has been thinking. It's more play based as far as time frame, for example she met him when she was older than seven. I know everyone's anxious to see a reunion between E/C, and I promise it will come in time. **

Lying there quietly in the dim light, Christine slowly began the process of piecing together the events of the last year, hoping that in the end they would form a portrait of the epiphany that she sought. If she did not find clarity in the solitude of the little room, she would find it nowhere. Now, there was no fiancé tugging impatiently at her arm, attempting to convince her that the world existed in only shades of black and white. There was no unearthly voice inside her head that clearly belonged to a creature shadowed in shades of gray. Right then, there was only her...and the dull pain that continued to remind her of her decision.

First there had been the ethereal voice in her little dressing room. As she had sat there weeping desperately for her deceased father, it had come to her...declaring itself to be an Angel of Music sent by Gustav Daae himself. So dire was her need to believe in the old fairy tale that she had accepted its proclamation without question. Over the next few months, the voice had soothed the emptiness and pain that had consumed her heart for so long, and what little doubt she may have had was clouded by the comfort that it brought. Her beliefs only became firmer as the Angel carried her voice to new heights, doing just as her father claimed it would. During each lesson, the rest of the world seemed to fade away as she was swept up in the magnificent music.

Yet...perhaps in a very deep part of herself where common sense still resided, Christine always sensed a more earthly presence near her. Though every aspect of the voice seemed surreal, there was always that slight tinge to it that hinted of something not quite from heaven.

All had been revealed the night after her untimely performance in _Hannibal_...the night Raoul, her childhood sweetheart, had appeared at her door with a bouquet of flowers...and the night her precious illusion was shattered. "Sweet Raoul," she thought fondly for a moment. "Thinking that everything was the same. Thinking I was the little girl from the sea he had adored so well." Vaguely she remembered being happy to see him, but really her mind had been elsewhere that night. He had wanted her to join him for dinner, but, somehow she knew that it would displease her Angel. And if the Angel left, all of the joy in her life would be swept away, and the last connection to her father would be severed.

When Raoul had departed, the voice had come to her as it so often did after performances. There was a fury in its tone as it berated her for having the young man within her dressing room. Perhaps that worldly jealousy should have indicated to her that the Angel was not all it seemed, but still she clung to the fantasy and apologized to the voice for her mortal weakness.

That night, sitting there in her solitude, hearing the voice of her Angel was suddenly not enough. She had desired to see him in all of his glorious splendor, and, to her utmost delight, he had obliged. Looking back, she realized, the sound of her voice had not been satisfying enough for him either. Through the mirror, he had taken her down the winding stone stares and across the vast lake to his dark paradise. Dressed in black from head to toe, with the exception of the white mask that obscured half of his face, her Angel had bore into her soul with his golden eyes. He had sung to her...talked of the beauty that lay in the night, and she had allowed him to caress her with both his slender hands and his soothing voice. But though he possessed the body of a man and his soft touches were not those of a spirit, she had still believed him to be an Angel.

It was only after the white mask came off, that the Angel plunged from the heavens. Oh, how horribly he had yelled at her when she had looked upon his mangled features. He had cursed her furiously before falling to his knees in pure anguish. "Is this what you wanted to see, Christine?" he had rasped. "Feast your eyes on the demon! Can you even bare to look at me? This gargoyle! This corpse that adores you!"

There was no doubt that she had been shocked by the skeletal image before her, yellowish skin tightly pulled toward the skull revealing blue veins, his golden eye sunk deeply within the void of it socket, and his nose seeming to disappear into itself. But more than anything...she was shocked that it was a man who lay sobbing before her...not an Angel. The last months had been nothing but one deception...yet she could feel nothing but pity for the man who knelt at her feet.

After recovering her voice, she had apologized profusely and told him somewhat unconvincingly that his face held no fear for her, but he had immediately taken her back up to the surface. In his last words to her, he told her that she would learn to love the man and see past the hideous monster...to which she had no response. Looking back, she regretted never asking him his name, for all _men_ had names.

Once above ground and in the light again, she had dwelt on the new found knowledge. A part of her was afraid now that she knew a mortal man had been watching her for so long. And yet another part of her was slightly excited at the thought of being able to physically touch the creature who had such a wondrous voice, who had enthralled her for so long. One could not, after all, grab onto an Angel.

Then came the whir of events in which all became uncertain.

She remembered the horror of _Il Muto_...the gruesome murder of Joseph Buquet... fleeing upon to the rooftop of the opera house with Raoul. There was such safety in her sweetheart's arms as he held her that night, giving her promises of peace and an escape from the darkness. Wrapped in the warmth of his tender words...she had allowed Raoul to guide her into the daylight over the next few months. When he had asked her hand in marriage...she had immediately said yes. Well, why wouldn't she? The Vicomte would provide her with love, security, and stability...a normal life.

Her Angel had vanished over those months, and in his place...an emptiness began to fill her soul. Even with Raoul constantly at her side, she felt alone, and she convinced herself that she longed for something that had never existed. And that was it, wasn't it? She missed her belief in an Angel...a false dream from her childhood. What else could give her such heartache? But there was something else. She missed...

"Annette?"

She missed...

"Annette?"

Why couldn't she place her mind on it.

"Mademoiselle Valerius!" Finally Christine realized that it was she who was being called, and her face flushed bright red. Ripping herself from her thoughts, she looked up to see Doctor Murrell staring curiously at her from the shadowed doorway. Next to him stood a plump, grey haired woman, dressed in a white nurse's uniform and holding a small blue basin of water.

"Oh, I am sorry Doctor Murrell," she apologized, propping herself up slightly. " My mind was in another place." Inside she berated herself for making such a stupid mistake. They would either realize she had been lying to them or think her insane. The doctor nodded his head understandingly and entered, relieved to see the girl with slightly more color in her cheeks.

"It is fine, Annette. I am glad that you are able to take your mind away from your injury. Some patients come in here and do nothing but moan for hours on end." He smiled a little as he walked to the bed and pulled back the wool blanket to reveal her ravaged foot. The swelling had receded some, but the ankle had begun to turn a sickly purplish color. This was not going to be a pleasant experience for the young girl.

He looked back up at her. "This is Nurse Cecile, and we are here to begin bandaging your ankle up. We shall be using Plaster of Paris, the newest wrapping technique, and it will heal as fast as it possibly could otherwise. Now, as we proceed...there is going to be great discomfort in the beginning, and if I were you, I would grit my teeth and get right back into those deep thoughts. Do you have any questions?"

Christine shook her head and shut her eyes as she felt the cool air hit her leg, ignoring the slight twinge as the nurse carefully propped the swollen foot up. Vaguely she heard them talking quietly to one another but ignored their voices as she reentered the past. Where was she? The Masquerade Ball. That was the next time she had seen him...the night she had slowly approached him in front of an entire room of people, including Raoul. To this day, she did not know why she had been drawn to him, but she remembered the thrill that had rushed through her at the sight of him in the elaborate red costume...staring at her through the giant death's head...beckoning her with his very presence.

Devastation and fear had overtaken her again, though, as he had ripped the engagement ring from her neck, screaming in her face that she still belonged to him. Looking back, she regretted wearing the expensive jewel that night, but Raoul had insisted.

A sharp pain rocked her leg at that moment, as they twisted the cracked bone just enough to lay the first wet cotton bandage on, causing her to release a tiny yelp. She tried to concentrate again.

Then there was the graveyard in Perros. As she was visiting her father, he had once again come to her, and she found herself floating toward him in the haze of winter. Despite all the pain he had brought her, she was still as drawn to him as when she thought he was her Angel. Had Raoul not appeared on his horse, she was sure that she would have let him take her back to his dark world that very day. Christine smiled wryly as she remembered that Raoul had thought that she believed it was her father speaking to her from beyond the grave. Perhaps she was naive, but she had known it was her Angel, and she had known it was a man that she was approaching. Once again, though, she was whisked away, unable to think...unable to decide.

After that incident, Raoul had finally come up with the dreadful plan to capture her Angel at his own opera. She was to be used as a sort of bait, and she would be forced to betray the man who had inspired her so...and who she was still drawn to.

But she wasn't able to go through with it...

Another twinge shot through her leg like fire, causing her to see a flash of hot blue light. Her body flinched in agony as she tried to hold back another cry.

"Hold on Mademoiselle," said the doctor kindly, as she let out a shaken sigh. "The hard part is almost over. You have done very well." She nodded tiredly, wishing desperately for everything to be over. But what did she want to come of this terrible situation? She would go with Raoul. She would convince her fiancé that they would be able to live in peace, even with the Phantom free and alive. Would her Angel really follow her across Paris...across France? She didn't think so...

Another jab of pain, as the bone was finally settled into its place, her nerve endings brushing up against the severed joint. She sucked in her breath.

"Almost done," the doctor said softly.

Then why did she not feel resolved with such a decision? Because...because there was something else...something she would not admit to herself. She was not worried about him following her. It was not that which made her heart race in frantic anticipation right now, nor was it the ache in her foot. All of these months without his voice, without his presence...all of these times she had tried to approach him...wanting him to come to her...desiring him...yearning for his touch...

But no! She couldn't think such thoughts...it didn't make any sense. She couldn't... It wasn't right. She loved Raoul. He was warm...protective...her savior from the darkness...

Pain enveloped her again as the last layer of bandages was pressed on...chasing the last thought from her mind...causing her to see flashes of crimson colors...driving her to near blissful unconsciousness. She gasped as the anguish began to fade, tears of hurt and confusion flowing freely down her flushed cheeks. But though she wished it to, the epiphany did not fade.

"It is over now," the doctor said with an apologetic smile, giving her a reassuring pat on her uninjured foot. "No more pain for a while." The nurse also gave her a small smile and placed a warm cloth to her perspiring forehead. Christine continued to sob softly for a moment, trying to compose herself.

"No," she said softly , as she recovered. "No...it is not over. I do not know what to do. " The doctor and nurse exchanged glances of confusion at the cryptic words before standing up.

"Well, Mademoiselle," said the doctor uncertainly, "I am sure you will figure it out soon. Right now, though, it is time for you to heal." He turned to the nurse. "Perhaps you should bring me sleeping serum."

"No..." whispered Christine suddenly, looking at him in a slight daze, the gaslight reflecting off of her worn face. They both stared down at her. "I do not wish to sleep yet. I...I need to think."

The doctor started to protest but quickly closed his mouth. Whatever burden the girl carried, perhaps she knew best how to handle it right now. "Very well, Mademoiselle. If you would just sign your name here please so that we have a record of your treatment, then the nurse and I will allow you to get some rest. You have done well tonight." He held out a black ink pen and a lined sheet of paper that contained the signatures of several other patients brought in that day. Still in a trance from both the physical pain and mental exhaustion, Christine's hand wobbled as she placed her name upon the line. Her name.

Cecile glanced down at the freshly drawn signature with a look of bewilderment. "But that is not...," she began, before the doctor placed a finger to his lips to silence the older woman. He then stared at the name and sighed, not really surprised that Annette Valerius did not exist.

"So Christine Daae..." Doctor Murrell wondered silently to himself. _"_Just what exactly are you hiding from?"


	5. Chapter 5

**This chapter may seem slightly confusing, as I change the point of view several times, but I think it keeps it kind of interesting. Bare through it...and the next chapter will have a reunion. Between E/C or R/C? You'll have to read to find out.**

Blended into the crowds and the black of night, Erik quickly made his way into the icy outside air. Dozens of people flew past him, oblivious to the fact that the cause of all their fear walked amongst them. Looking around, he pondered what his first move would be in his search for Christine. Perhaps she had gone to an inn of some sorts...or perhaps she had contacts within the city. The search would be endless, though, if he went about it that way. But...no matter where she had gone, she would have needed some sort of transportation.

The weather had been treacherous that afternoon. Only an idiot would have driven in conditions like that. Even now there were very few public carriages out, as most drivers had gone home for the day after the snow had hit. All of the wealthy aristocrats in attendance that night had their own drivers. There were, however, two public drivers stationed near the side of the opera house, awaiting those who were unfortunate enough to need a lift out of the cold. Perhaps that was the best place to begin. Erik approached them slowly, fingering his lasso and pondering how to go about this. Force would be quicker, but civility would draw less attention, and many armed guards still lingered about...

* * *

As he noticed the darkly cloaked figure approaching him, the driver of the first carriage sat up straight and eyed him over several times with suspicion. There was something disconcerting about not seeing the looming man's face in the night. "Hey, Maurice," he whispered to the carriage near him. "Have a look at this guy." Maurice looked back and gave a nervous grin. 

"Heh! Looks like he's coming your way, too, Jean. Hope he pays well." The driver sighed and continued to follow the man with his eyes, hoping that he would just pass by. To his dismay, the shadowed man was soon standing right next to him.

"Where to, Monsieur?" choked out Jean, still trying to discern the man's face under the scarf and cloak. He shifted nervously in the brief silence until the man finally spoke.

"I wish you to tell me who was stationed or driving near the opera house late this afternoon," came a soft but strangely menacing voice from beneath the scarf.

Jean looked at him oddly. "This afternoon? In that weather? No one, Monsieur. They would of had to have been crazy." A tension hung in the air, and he glanced back to make sure that Maurice was still near by.

"Are you sure of this, Monsieur? It would be very unwise to be in err right now."The threat in the statement was blatant.

"Well, yes." Jean turned to Maurice, his voice shaking slightly. "Maurice! Anyone you know out driving this afternoon...in that weather?"

"No, not that I know of!" Maurice craned his neck, trying to see just what was going on behind him. Jean looked back down and was shocked but somewhat relieved to see that the figure had just disappeared. He looked quickly around for verification that the man had left, shuddering and hoping that he would not be seeing any more of him that night. Turning back to face forward, though, Jean suddenly jumped in surprise as he noticed someone now standing on the opposite side of him. After he squinted and saw that it was two different men whose faces were quite visible, though, he calmed down. He did not notice that the shadow still lingered in the distance, silently glaring at the two intruders.

Jean briefly looked them over. One was a young blonde man, dressed impeccably in an expensive grey suit and starched white shirt, a look of concern plastered upon his otherwise attractive face. The other was obviously an officer of some sort, dressed in a blue uniform and fully armed with a rifle. Could this night get any odder? "Can I help you, Monsieur?" Jean asked, directing the question respectfully to the police officer

"Yes, I am sorry to bother you tonight, Monsieur, but I was wondering if you could answer several questions for me?"

"Of course, officer," said Jean curiously.

"Late this afternoon, did you or anyone that you knew happen to see or give carriage service to a young brunette woman...probably within the vicinity of the opera house."

"This afternoon? No one was giving service this afternoon, Monsieur. The weather was abominable." He saw the blonde man's face twist in aggravated frustration.

"You are positive? No one was in service this afternoon? " Before Jean could answer "no" for the second time that day, all three men looked up to the soft trot of another carriage heading toward them in the distance. The horses slushed softly through the snow and the face of an elderly man could be seen approaching in the dim gaslights.

"Good Lord!" exclaimed Jean more to himself than the others. "That is Claude. I thought he had gone home for the day. What the hell is he doing out in this? The man is nearly seventy!" By the time he had looked down, though, his interrogator had once again disappeared. He looked up to see that the young man and the officer had rushed off to meet the oncoming carriage.

* * *

As the two men came nearer, they saw that the man looked exhausted, the wrinkles in his eyes made more obvious by the dark shadows surrounding him. He looked up with surprise as they rushed toward him through the deep snow, hoping he would not witness another injury that night. "Can I help you gentlemen?" 

"Yes, Monsieur." answered the officer, slightly out of breath from the dash through the cold air. "May I ask you where you have just come from?"

"Just got back from taking a young woman to the hospital. Poor thing hurt her ankle pretty badly out here on the ice." He shook his head slightly with the unpleasant memory.

"What did she look like?" jumped in the blonde man anxiously, his blue eyes glinting with slight hope.

"She was a tiny thing. Brown curls. Dark eyes, I think. Looked about twenty or so. Why do you ask? Do you know her?" Both men breathed out long sighs of relief, and the younger man's shoulders relaxed.

"It must be Christine," said the boy, turning to the officer. "Good God! I hope she is not injured too badly. I do not know what she was thinking going out in that weather!" The officer nodded understandingly, very glad that the job had turned out easier than he had thought it would. After that insane night in the opera house, he was quite happy to catch any breaks that he could. He turned to Claude, wishing to remove himself from the situation.

"Would you be so kind as to take Monsieur de Chagny to her tonight? I am afraid I have more pressing matters to attend to, and the girl seems to be in safe hands." Claude sighed tiredly but nodded. He had really just wanted to get home that night to his wife, as the day had been quite trying. The officer then turned to the boy. "If you need anymore help tonight, there are other armed policemen scattered throughout the area."

"Thank you, Monsieur," said the young man, climbing in to the warmth of the carriage with relief. "I am sorry tonight did not go as planned. We shall catch him eventually, though."

The officer shrugged and nodded, starting to wonder as many of his superiors were if this opera ghost was nothing more than a strange publicity stunt. No one had seen him that night, after all, and no one had been hurt by any of his so-called pranks. There was that one murder several months ago, but no one had ever proved that it had not been a suicide or a terrible accident. Nevertheless, he let the young man go find the girl without argument and waved goodnight.

Neither of the three men noticed the shadow that followed closely behind the carriage.

_Even if he could not get to her first...at least he would get to her._

* * *

Raoul quickly opened the wooden door of the small hospital, relieved it was still unlocked in these late hours. He hoped strongly that the girl in question was indeed Christine, and that he could just take her home that night and be done with the situation. He was slightly irritated, though he knew he should only feel concern for her health. What had she been thinking going out into the weather...putting the entire plan at risk without a moment's notice? He shook his head in exasperation and turned the corner of the corridor, looking for someone who could help him. Many of the lights had been turned off, making it difficult to see where he was even going and giving an eerie feeling to the building. For a brief moment, Raoul thought he heard footsteps behind him and whipped his head around the corner. Seeing no one, he sighed. The day was really starting to get to him. 

Finally, he noticed a light out of the corner of his eye and realized he was standing near a young nurse. She was beginning to nod off at a small desk under a dimly lit lamp. "Excuse me, Mademoiselle," he said loudly to awaken her. She started and lifted her head up. At the sight of the handsome man in front of her, she tilted her blonde head and smiled flirtatiously.

"Can I help you, Monsieur?" she began, batting her green eyes a bit.

"Yes, Mademoiselle. I was wondering if you could tell me if my fiancée, a young woman named Christine Daae, was brought here today?"

At the word fiancee, the girl lowered her posture slightly, dignifying herself. "Let me look at my patient list, Monsieur." She scanned it quickly before looking up. "No one here by that name, I am afraid."

Raoul let out a sigh and rubbed his temples, trying to calm himself down "Are you quite sure, Mademoiselle? A brunette woman? I think she has hurt her leg."

"All I can tell you is the name, Monsieur. And there is no one here by that title." Her tone became slightly indignant as the man looked upon her with the beginnings of a scowl. "If you would like, you can come back tomorrow and ask the doctor. Visitors are usually not allowed this late anyway."

Raoul clenched his fists and looked around for someone else to speak to but saw that the halls were completely vacant. Turning back to the girl, he tried again. "Can I see your list or look around the hospital, Mademoiselle? I am sure she is here! This is important!"

"I am sorry, Monsieur, but I cannot allow you to do that at this hour of the night. Please come back tomorrow when the doctor is here." She glared at him slightly now, perfectly ready to request the services of the guard that was stationed at the back should the man refuse to leave.

"Fine. I shall, Mademoiselle." He stalked out of the room and out the door. Tempted as he was to look around, he knew that it would be impossible to find Christine in the dark hallways. Should he try the police again? Looking up at the sky with aggravation, he marched back off into the snow, on what he knew was likely going to be a pointless search.

* * *

As the young man flew back out, the young nurse shook her head in disdain, wondering why the most handsome men had to be so cocky and impatient. She scanned her papers again with satisfaction, verifying that no such woman existed in the hospital. Suddenly she heard a soft rustling noise behind her. Whipping around, she found herself face to face with Cecile, one of the head nurses and a close friend of hers. She was out of her white uniform and collecting up her items, preparing to go home for the night. "Cecile? Oh my! I thought you were gone for the day!" 

The older woman sighed and shook her head. "We had so many new patients come in today. Several cases of influenza, actually. I had to stay late sorting everything out as we were understaffed. If we have an epidemic this year, I do not know what we will do."

"Oh, I know. I hate how busy the winter season is. " She paused, remembering what she had just been doing moments ago. " Cecile...we had no one come in today with the name Christine Daae, did we?"

Cecile looked up with some surprise at the girl's knowledge. "Well, actually, yes we did. Poor thing broke her ankle quite badly."

"But she was not on the list. I checked several times."

"Yes...it is a rather long story...better left for another day. But now that you mention it, dear, change the name of the girl at the end of the hall to Christine Daae. Room twelve. I think she is down as Annette." The young nurse rolled her eyes and bit her lip as she crossed off the name.

"It would be rather nice if things were more organized around here. My goodness! I just sent a young man off telling him that no such woman was a patient here..." she stopped talking suddenly and her eyes darted to the dark hallway.

"What is wrong?" asked Cecile, looking to where her gaze lay.

"I...I thought I saw something flash by, down the corridor." She shook her head. "I hate staying here at night. My silly mind is always playing with me, especially when I get tired." Cecile smiled sympathetically.

"Well, I hope you have a quiet night, dear. I know that I need much sleep after today." The elderly nurse walked off, and the young woman had nodded off at the desk again within minutes.


	6. Chapter 6

**I'm glad the last chapter got such a good response! Thank you all so much for the reviews! Some of you guys really make me laugh with your comments, especially the Raoul bashing ones. Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter. Remember that it is a first meeting, though, and there is still much tension. Truthfully this story may end up a little longer than I planned. Hope that's okay with everyone! Enjoy!**

With the mounds of snow greatly slowing the horses, keeping up with the carriage had been quite an easy task. Following the Vicomte into the hospital had certainly posed no problem. Once there, though, and hidden within the shadows, Erik had pondered how to go about and search the vast building. Perhaps there was a list of some sort that he could get his hands on which would tell him just where Mademoiselle Daae slept.

Within minutes, he heard an argument in the vicinity and watched with great amusement as the boy was forced out into the cold by a haughty young nurse. Erik continued to make his way discreetly down the hall, even more determined to find her now that his competition had been temporarily eliminated. Looking back, he was quite pleased that he had not strayed far, for he soon heard the delightful words of the elderly nurse echoing around him...

_... But now that you mention it, dear, change the name of the girl at the end of the hall to Christine Daae. Room twelve. I think she is down as Annette. _

And as the boy had stalked off into the snow in a huff...Erik had flown through the dark corridors to room number twelve...

* * *

Several hours after the excruciating wrapping of her ankle, Christine lay quietly beneath the cotton sheets in the dark, finally beginning to drift off to sleep after the trying day. By that time, she had managed to convince herself that no sane decision could be made while she was under the turmoil of earlier. Her mind could not possibly function correctly while experiencing bouts of pain and rushes of endorphins. After a good night's rest, she would have a clearer head and see things for what they really were. She would regain her reason. At least that is what she told herself right before she dipped into a peaceful unconsciousness. 

Just as she had finally begun to nod off, Christine was vaguely aware of the door quietly creaking open and then quickly shutting with a soft click. With irritation, she stirred slightly but kept her eyelids firmly closed. Why couldn't the nurses leave her alone for the night? One had just been in about an hour ago to feel her forehead and ask her a never-ending list of questions regarding her health. At this rate, she would never get any sleep.

Christine kept her eyes shut in hope that the nurse would take pity and not awaken her. It was at that moment, though, that a familiar chill ran through her...causing her heart beat to quicken and her muscles to tense up. Instinctively, she pulled the thick wool blanket tightly around her shoulders. Silence engulfed the room, and she wondered if the nurse had left.

Though she attempted to drift off for a second time, Christine could sense that a presence still lingered around her. Suddenly, she felt a slight pressure nudge her head and realized that someone was softly stroking her matted curls. Christine sat up with a jump, opening her eyes widely and allowing them to adjust to the darkness. She glanced around quickly and at first could see nothing out of the ordinary. Had she been dreaming?

Slowly turning to her right to take a more careful look, though, she let out a sharp gasp and moved her eyes upward. Two golden lights beamed down, emanating from the dark figure that hovered over her from above. Gripping the sheets until her knuckles turned white, it took Christine several seconds to comprehend that it was her Angel who stood by her bedside. Her body tremored with something between fear and excitement, and her breath quickened to a soft pant.

For a brief moment, she debated whether or not to let out a scream but brushed the thought rapidly aside. Anyone who rushed into that room would likely not make it back out alive...plus she had not yet decided whether the chills that ran through her were solely those of terror. He just stood there, arms neatly folded, continuing to watch her each distinct movement. She could not quite make out his expression in the dark...especially when it was partially obscured by the dim light reflecting off the white mask.

"Angel..." Christine finally choked out in a whisper. "What...what are you doing here?" It was a ridiculous question, but all she could get herself to utter at that moment. In the darkness, she thought she saw him smirk slightly before answering.

"You did not think you could escape me so easily, did you Christine?" he asked in the calm, mesmerizing voice that had entranced her for so many months. Silently he made his way to the end of the hospital bed, and Christine could only watch in a daze as he pulled the covers up slightly to take a quick look at her heavily wrapped ankle. He tsked several times as he gazed upon the collage of wet cotton. "Though it does seem as if you put quite a bit of effort into trying to do so."

"Now, Christine," he began looking up at her and replacing the blanket carefully. "Would you be so kind as to tell your Angel why you chose not to perform tonight? Did you not think of the consequences of your actions? You may have caused quite a catastrophe, you know." He stared down at her from the edge of the bed, and Christine was still not able to discern his expression in the dark. Just how angry was he?

She gasped slightly as she went over his last statement in her mind, realizing its dire implications. "Was...was someone hurt tonight at the opera house?" He smiled wryly at her.

"You did not seem to care about that when you chose to flee." Her already pallid face grew whiter as she wondered what horrible deaths had been caused by her hasty actions, the faces of her ballet friends and her fiancé flashing rapidly through her mind. What had her Angel done that night? "Now, my dear...what _were _you thinking?" His question diverted her from her thoughts. Christine hesitated for a moment before answering, looking away from his inquiring eyes.

"I...I did not want anyone to get hurt tonight. It...there were going to be dozens of armed guards... There was nothing else I could do. No one...no one gave me a choice." She choked back a slight sob, as she stuttered out the words.

"Just who did you think would get hurt, Christine?" he asked softly. His eyes bore into her with the pressing question, and she shifted nervously under the sheets, her heart pounding.

"Anyone...me...I do not know. Why do you torture me, Angel? What do you wish me to say to you?" At that moment Erik took her letter from his pocket and tossed it nonchalantly to her on the bed. Picking it up in her tiny hands and clumsily unfolding it, she let out a slight gasp as she realized what it was. She now knew it was very unlikely that her fiance had ever found the note. What he must be thinking! And now...Erik knew of the events that were meant to occur that night...and what her motives were in escaping them. "That was for Raoul!" she exclaimed before immediately regretting it.

He sharply glared down at her at the mention of the name. "I did not notice. Tell me, though, Christine, was it your original intent to betray me tonight? Did you consider finally ridding yourself of the monster?" She turned her head shamefully.

"I did not know what to do," she said quietly. "I wished to be free...and I wished for no one to be hurt. So I left..."

A silence hovered in the little room now, and both were quite aware of the odd situation that they were in. By looking at her ankle, Erik knew she would remain in the hospital for several more days, no matter how much the boy wanted to drag her away when he finally discovered her. Lest he risk great hazard to her health, Erik could not whisk her off to his underground abode where there was no medical services or supplies. He would have to wait till she was notified of her upcoming discharge from the hospital, then take her before the Vicomte could. At the same time, Christine was in no position to run and hide...avoid him and her confused feelings toward him like a scared little girl. She was forced to face him alone... no matter how much he frightened her. They were stuck within the confines of the little room...both slightly less in power than they preferred to be.

Erik cautiously reached out to stroke her soft curls again, wondering if she would cringe away from his touch now that she knew just whose company she was in. Christine did not shy away, though, just continuing to lie there in thought. "Angel..." she finally spoke uncertainly. "What is your name?"

There was a silence. "Why? Are Phantom and Monster not to your liking?" She didn't say anything but frowned slightly at the words that were meant to hurt her. He sighed. "It is just...Erik," he finally told her.

"Erik," she repeated. It felt strangely comforting giving a title to her Angel...the Phantom, as if it gave him more tangibility, more humanity.

"Now, Christine. Did you ever consider coming to me with such news of this elaborate plan, or is only your Vicomte deserving of such detailed explanations? I have no doubt that he was one of the _geniuses _behind the little set up. How thoughtful of him to use his fiancée as bait!" Christine sighed in frustration, though the slight truth in the last statement did make her tense a bit.

"Had I come to you, you would not have let me go. You...you have done nothing but deceive and terrify me in these last few months."

He glared down at her and spoke with bitterness. "And you have not lied to me, Christine? The rooftop, after _Il Muto_? I certainly enjoyed that display! And your engagement ring was quite a nice object to add to my valuables," he sneered.

"I can marry whom I choose," she replied, surprised at herself for making the assertive statement in his presence.

"No," he rasped, bending down to look her straight in the eye. "You belong to me Christine. Only to me. In time, you will realize that and in time you will learn to love me. You will realize that the boy can do nothing for you, and as soon as you are able to leave, it is I who will take you. You will come back with me, and you will not leave me again."

She let out a frustrated cry and buried her head angrily into the creases of the pillow, hating the hostility that dripped from his voice and the control that he had over her. For a moment, she wished that she had betrayed him that night. Perhaps then she would have been allowed to live in peace! Keeping her face within the pillow for several minutes, she again became aware of a rush of cold air hitting her feet as the blanket was lifted. She tensed in uncertainty but felt her body relax as a set of cool, slender fingers massaged the area above and below the injury. As the soothing pressure caused the moderate pain to slowly fade, Christine felt her anger fade as well. How could someone give her such misery and bliss at the same time?

"I shall take my leave tonight and return tomorrow night," he said sternly after a while, raising his hands from her. "It would be wise to stay silent about our little visits, for I will still come even if unwanted company is present. Remember that I shall always be watching you, though, no matter what time of day it is." As he turned to leave, she suddenly remembered the one important question that had gone unanswered.

"Erik...how many people...were hurt tonight?" Christine had to know what damage she had done at this very instant, or her withered conscience would never allow her to sleep in peace. Inside, she prayed deeply that no harm had come to anyone she truly cared for. Just how much had Erik punished her?

He turned slightly and smirked. "Are you really that concerned, my dear?"

"Please, Erik. Please tell me what happened tonight." She stared up at him meekly from the bed, begging him with her big brown eyes to grant her mercy. Though he considered leaving her in her miserable state as she had done to him for so long, Erik decided to take pity upon her. After all, she had proven that her devotion did not lie solely to the boy. Even if she still resisted him, her confusion was quite obvious. A part of her still belonged to her Angel, whether she admitted it or not.

"Christine...because of your blatant disobedience tonight..." he began grimly before pausing, toying with her just slightly as a look of devastation crossed her face, "a shoddily designed piece of scenery met its untimely fate." He left the room in an instant, leaving her shaking but with a feeling of pure relief. For a moment, she just stared wondrously at the spot where he had been standing. Even as she closed her eyes and drifted into an unsettling slumber, she knew she would not tell anyone of her visitor that night.


	7. Chapter 7

**Hello! Thanks to everyone for the lovely reviews! You guys are great! Nurse Erik! Lol...**

**My sister sprained her ankle today, and I couldn't help but think that she needed Nurse Erik.**

**Let's see...what to say about this chapter. Christine is still pretty fickle in it, but things will slowly start to come together. There will probably be only one or two more chapters that take place in the hospital after this. I promise you will see the opera house again. Enjoy this chapter! **

Slowly Doctor Murrell opened the wooden door of room number twelve and walked in, motioning with one finger for the young man to remain in the hall for a moment. The Vicomte gave the doctor an irritated glance, but obeyed, knowing another confrontation would not get him anywhere. Christine lay on her back with the covers up to her neck sleeping quietly, her red lips curled in what appeared to be a tiny smile. As the door clicked shut, she stirred and quickly propped herself up, her brown eyes darting rapidly around the dim room as if in search of something.

"Good morning, Mademoiselle," greeted the doctor, slightly taken aback by the girl's quick reaction. "How are you feeling today? You have a visitor this morning." Christine attempted to compose herself, trying to separate the events of the night and the present moment. Rubbing her forehead, she looked up wearily at the doctor.

"A visitor?" she mumbled quietly.

"Yes, Mademoiselle. Raoul de Chagny, your fiancé." As the doctor was just arriving at his office and removing his coat, the young man had rushed into the hospital, his white shirt wrinkled and his blonde hair in tangled strands. He had inquired if Christine Daae was a patient there, grumbling under his breath about an encounter he had with a nurse the previous night. Of course, the doctor had been pleased that the woman had some kind of personal contact and had calmly explained Christine's condition. Still, though, Doctor Murrell wished to see how the girl responded to her fiance's name before he let the young man see her. She had obviously been trying to hide from something the day before, and he wanted to be sure that the Vicomte was not the cause of her distress.

"Raoul?" she repeated. Though her pale face retained a tired expression, it did light up slightly. Seeing nothing resembling terror, the doctor smiled and opened the door, signaling for the young man to enter. Raoul rushed in and knelt by her at the bedside.

Christine smiled wearily. "Raoul!" she quietly exclaimed, returning his embrace. The doctor strolled unnoticed out of the room, contentedly believing that all of the turmoil surrounding Mademoiselle Daae was soon to be over.

After hugging her and placing a quick kiss upon her soft cheek, Raoul backed up slightly, a confused expression crossing his tired face. "Christine," he began. "I did not know what had happened to you! I thought maybe _he_ had...Why would you run off like that?"

She sighed. "Oh, Raoul. It is so difficult for me to explain right now. I do not even know if I understand it."

"But, Christine. You could have been injured much worse than this in that weather. You could have been killed! I do not understand what you were thinking." He ran a hand through his matted hair and shook his head. "Last night was our final chance to be free of that monster. We could have killed him...or at least have had him chained and locked up. Without you...the plan was completely destroyed, and now that mad man is still on the loose...free to terrorize us."

Christine's eyes widened slightly, and she turned away sharply to avoid his gaze. "Raoul...please. I just could not go through with it..." She thought for a second before continuing. "I wrote you a note before I left but...did not have the courage to give it to you. Perhaps it will explain better than I can tell you." She dug the crumpled sheet of paper up from its spot in the covers and gently placed it into his hand.

He took it curiously. "It looks like it has been read quite a bit," he mumbled, opening it carefully. After taking a moment to go over it, he looked up and into her eyes. "Christine...I understand that you were afraid. But...now you have to live in fear every day..."

"Raoul," she interrupted him. "Did you not read the second paragraph? Fear was not my sole reason for fleeing." He looked quickly at the note again and scowled slightly.

"Any need you feel to protect him, any devotion you may feel toward him is purely because of the control he has kept over you. When...when this is over and that monster has finally been stopped, you will realize just how much you have been manipulated. Why...if it was not for me, he would have taken you that day in the graveyard. Does that thought not terrify you?"

"It is very complicated, Raoul. Please do not assume you know what I am feeling right now." He sighed and placed his head into his hands in frustration.

"I understand that it is complicated. But think of your safety. How will we ever live in peace together, knowing he could be following us wherever we go? I am going to have to hire guards to surround my manor once we are married...either that or leave this area all together."

She shook her head tiredly. "He is just one man."

Raoul snorted dryly. "Just one man? That is the biggest understatement I have ever heard. I thought he was your _beloved_ Angel of Music...the all-powerful Phantom of the Opera...but now he is just one man."

Christine groaned and for the second time buried her face within the folds of the pillow, this time in exasperation. Raoul sighed. "Look, I am sorry you have hurt yourself, and I know you do not feel well. You must understand my frustration, though. A lot of effort went into last night...and now we are back to where we were before. Worse off than we were before!" She said nothing, and he finally stood up with a sigh.

"I am going to go for a while and think about the situation," he said, finally giving up the interrogation and softening his voice. "The doctor says you will be here for a couple more nights. I told him I wished to take you home immediately, but it seems that it would not be in your best interest. Anyhow, you are going to be off your feet for some time, my love. " She finally turned around and tried to form a reassuring smile.

"Goodbye," she said softly. "I...I am sorry that I ruined everything, Raoul. It...it was just very difficult." He nodded, kissed her forehead quickly, and left with an exasperated expression.

Christine shook her head in confusion and guilt as he departed. She thought Raoul would have been slightly kinder to her in her condition, but she did understand his frustration. Here he was trying so desperately to protect her, and she could not even bring herself to tell him that the Phantom himself would be coming to her room that night. Why did she not tell anyone of Erik's presence? She could have had the entire hospital staff and police force awaiting his capture, yet still she kept silent. Just as she had desired him at the cemetery before she had been swept away, she desired to see him again tonight. The very thought of his presence made her heart race in anticipation.

Perhaps Raoul was right. Perhaps she did hold an unhealthy devotion to her Angel. ..but no part of her could bare to break the bondage. Though she felt some fear when he was around, there was also something immensely comforting about him. Erik, when he was not in a controlling rage, could soothe her mind with simple words. His rare touches gave her sensations that even...the kiss of Raoul could not bring. She wondered briefly what a kiss from Erik would feel like, before quickly brushing the thought from her mind in shame.

Erik's world was cold and lonely...his distorted features condemning him to a life in the darkness. He was a murderer, and he had deceived her. There could surely be no real future with him hidden in the shadows. Raoul would provide her with love and security and a life in the light. Of course she would marry him in the end. Somehow she would have to free herself from Erik's grasp, even if the thought of leaving him forever pained her. She prayed, though, that she would be released with his life and freedom still in tact.

* * *

The night had fallen, and Christine quietly stared out the dusty window and into the illuminated streets of the city. After a long day of being visited several times by a distraught Raoul, a never-ending stream of nurses, and once more by the doctor...she had wished to get up from the white, sterile sheets. With the help of a reluctant nurse, Christine had hobbled into a chair in front of the window to look outside. It seemed that she had been forgotten about, though, as no one had returned to help her back into bed in the last several hours. 

She sighed as she gazed out, beginning to dislike the powerlessness her immobility brought her. Raoul had already decided that upon her discharge from the hospital, she would go to live in an estate outside of Paris with some of his close family friends until she healed. He would continue to try and secure their safety through the use of the police, and they would marry once she was able to walk again. Where they would go as husband and wife depended on whether the Phantom was still a threat to them. If he was, Raoul had begun making elaborate plans to move to one of his family's properties that lay several hours from the city. Christine had just nodded and sighed in resignation as he went through the complicated details, his paranoia making her feel tired.

As she lost herself in thoughts of the future, Christine suddenly sensed his presence behind her and took in a deep breath, trying to calm her heart. She did not turn around as Erik approached her in the dark, and there was a long moment of silence between them. "You cannot be kept in bed for long, can you my dear?" he finally asked with amusement as he looked upon her hunched frame.

"I grew tired of staying down all day," she replied softly, tingling inside.

"You certainly did put yourself in an unpleasant situation with your escapade. Tell me, Christine, how did the _Vicomte_ take to your decision? I cannot say I am displeased with the demise of his little plan." Christine was not surprised that he knew of Raoul's visitations. Somehow Erik still managed to be everywhere, even outside of the opera house.

She frowned and continued to stare out the window. "He was not happy. No one seems to be...and yet I do not regret making it." Finally turning her head, she cautiously looked up at him. He stared down at her coldly, though not with quite the threatening gaze of last night. For a moment, she lost herself in the glow of the golden orbs but quickly ripped her eyes away. Exhaustion overtook her as the conflicting feelings surged through her mind, and she fought all urges to lean against his towering figure.

With a sigh, she looked toward the welcoming plush pillow that awaited her tired head. Slowly she arose, steadying herself onto one foot and attempting to hop her way back to the bed. On her first jump, she slammed her knee roughly into the corner of a little table and let out a soft moan of pain before sitting back down in defeat. Without a word, Erik casually offered her his arm, and she stared at it wearily for a moment before gratefully taking it. She grasped onto his lean shoulder and placed her weight against him, closing her eyes in peaceful submission for a brief moment as he helped her hobble back to the bed. Her heart beat raced in those few seconds, and she gripped on to him a moment longer than necessary. "Thank you," she finally said, as she awkwardly climbed under the sheets.

Though Erik gave no reply, inside he was treasuring the warmth from her body that still lingered on his thin frame. Even if she was disgusted by him, at least she could bear to touch him when circumstances necessitated it. On many occasions, he had watched from the shadows of the opera house as the Vicomte had tightly embraced her small shoulders...kissing her rosy lips gently with his perfect ones. A rage always filled him at the sight, followed by a sharp pang of despair. Why could she not look upon him with love as she did for the damn boy? Why could he not experience the touch of her lips against his? Because he was a monster. A cold, grotesque corpse that haunted her and made her miserable. With self-loathing, he turned from her and went to the window so that she could not see the desperation in his eyes.

"Is something wrong?" he heard her ask meekly from the bed.

"No," he said almost inaudibly. There was a silence, and he wondered if she had escaped him in sleep until he heard her voice again.

"Will you..." she began awkwardly before pausing. "My ankle...did not hurt as much after you..." She stopped again, but he understood her meaning. She actually wished for him to touch her, even if it was only for the alleviation of her pain. Within seconds, he was at the end of the bed again, moving his fingers delicately around her foot.

Christine sighed and closed her eyes as the ache faded, blissful sleep overtaking her. After a while, he left the edge of the bed and, against his better judgement, came up next to where her dozing form lay. Her tiny hand lay limply over the bedside, and he slowly took it into his large one, marveling at its softness for a moment. At the cold touch, she opened her eyes widely and looked up at him, startled.

"Forgive me," he said quickly, attempting to draw back before she was utterly repulsed. She grabbed onto his hand tightly, though, entwining her small fingers within his long, slender ones and staring up at him with an unknown expression. They were frozen like that for a moment, neither daring to speak.

"Erik," she started softly, her heart racing. "I..." But she could not finish her sentence. At that moment, the door creaked open, and Doctor Murrell gasped as he was met with a set of golden lights, glaring at him furiously in the dark.


	8. Chapter 8

**Hello! Sorry for the evil cliffy. I'll try to avoid too many, but some are just necessary. This story may get a lot longer than I thought, but I guess if you get tired of it, you can stop reading. Lol...**

**I've gotten many requests for the services of Nurse Erik. At least if he ever gets tired of being the Opera Ghost, he has a job lined up for him. The Phantom of the Hospital...hmmmm...**

**Enjoy this chapter!**

Standing motionless in the doorway, Doctor Murrell squinted his eyes, trying to discern just exactly what he was looking at. He raised the gas lamp he held in his hand and let the shafts of light fall upon the bed in yellow streaks. Christine, he could see, was sitting up with a look of shock upon her face, her wide brown eyes blinking at the sudden brightness. Slowly, the doctor elevated the lamp more so as to make out the figure that hovered over her, but the person took a step into the shadows, just out of the light's reach.

The doctor cautiously stepped forward into the room, determined to get a look at the owner of the yellow eyes that continued to glare at him. Closer now, he held up the light again, and this time the figure did not move but rather turned to the side slightly. Doctor Murrell could finally see the left profile of an extremely tall, thin man, suited in formal black attire. The strange golden eye shown from a relatively attractive face, hampered only by its pallor and the expression of fury set upon it. "Excuse me, Monsieur," Doctor Murrell finally choked out, still trying to see the man in his totality. "I do not believe you are supposed to be in here."

Raising himself to an intimidating full height, the man said nothing, continuing to keep his right side bathed in the shadows of the room. The doctor glanced back down at Christine, hoping to see in her expression whether this visitor was welcome or not. "Doctor Murrell," she finally began in a shaky voice as she glanced nervously from man to man. "Please...permit him to stay. Everything is fine. I...I just need to talk to him for a moment."

The doctor stayed where he was, sensing something very odd about the situation. "Mademoiselle, this is not appropriate. Your visitor may come back tomorrow when it is daytime." There was a short silence before the strange man finally spoke.

"I prefer to visit tonight, Monsieur. I suggest that you leave immediately and speak not a word of this to anyone." The doctor was shocked at how much hostility could seep from such a magnificently toned voice. Shaking slightly, though, he continued to hold his ground.

"Monsieur, you may come back tomorrow when visitors are allowed. If you do not leave now, I will summon the police." At this, the man gave a soft, eerie laugh and took a step toward him, though the girl continued to clutch his hand. Christine cried out again, looking back and forth between the two men frantically.

"Please doctor!" she exclaimed. "Do not get the police. He...he has just come to visit for tonight." She turned toward her visitor now and spoke with more caution. "Erik... do not do anything. I beg you to leave him alone." Christine prayed that her pleas would not fall upon deaf ears, for she knew easily who would win any confrontation.

The doctor was in a difficult spot. He was not a strong man himself, and a danger radiated off of this guest. Was this...Erik terrorizing the girl, or had he just walked in on some kind of secret love affair? Raising the lantern once again, he looked down at the girl's expression. Though Christine looked exhausted, she did not seem to be horrified. In fact, she was clinging to the man's hand very tightly. "Doctor Murrell," he heard her plea again. "Please just forget this. Everything is fine."

As Erik continued to glare at him from the shadows, Doctor Murrell suddenly got the feeling that he had no choice but to comply...or at least pretend to comply. There was a hostility in the room that made him shiver, and visions of his own family were currently flashing through his mind.

"All right," he said softly, backing away. "I shall give you a moment." Quickly Doctor Murrell walked into the hallway and closed the door tightly behind him, taking in a deep breath. He debated going to the police but chose to stay put in his office for his own safety and because of the fact that Christine did not seem scared for her life. By the way she gripped that man's hand...well...perhaps this was a matter better left between her and her fiance...

* * *

Erik stood there glowering angrily at the now closed door. "He will go for the police. He will tell your precious lover exactly what has occurred. I should not have let him leave." 

"Erik, please. Do not hurt him. I do not think he will tell anyone. He has been nothing but kind to me." Her voice shook slightly with the plea, and she awaited his response, realizing that she was still gripping his hand. Erik was silent for a moment but then suddenly looked down at her, an eerie glint within his eye.

"I shall not hurt him, my dear. If you are with me, then he poses no threat now, does he?" The words were spoken calmly, but they sent a shiver throughout her.

"What do you mean?" she asked, her eyes widening.

"I shall take you with me tonight, before anyone arrives and destroys everything that I have worked for. And I suggest strongly that you do not scream, for the next person who runs in here will meet an unhappy ending." In one swift move, he scooped her up from the bed and into his arms, her legs dangling loosely over the side. "Come Christine. It is time to go." He had a slightly wild look on his face as he stared down at her in the darkness, holding her closely against him.

"Erik, please," she started in shock, pushing against him furiously with her tiny hands as he began to carry her away. "I cannot do this...Erik. Stop it! I cannot just go with you tonight. Let go of me!" She protested quietly, not wishing anyone to be hurt on her account. Tears formed in her eyes as confusion overtook her. No matter what she had been feeling moments before, she could not feel love toward someone taking her against her will. She would not allow herself to feel anything but anger toward her captor.

"You are mine, Christine. You can only be mine," he said furiously, gripping onto her small body tightly as she fought futilely against him. Seeing the terror in her eyes, though, he softened his voice slightly and stopped walking, trying to calm her down, hating himself all the more. "Shhhh," he whispered softly as she continued to sob and protest. "It will be fine soon. You will learn to love me in time and be happy with my company. I shall give you whatever you desire once you are with me."

"No, Erik," she retorted angrily. "Please...stop. It cannot be like this. I am not yours, and I cannot go with you! I can never love you!" Finally she stopped fighting and looked up at him defeatedly through her salty tears with loathing. When she saw, though, that there was nothing but hopeless adoration in his golden eyes, pity quickly replaced her anger, and she almost regretted her last statement. So many years of deep pain and longing shone through as he gazed down upon her lovingly, and her heart broke for him at that moment. Christine closed her eyes in thought. Perhaps if not love...perhaps she could at least bring him solace.

Taking a deep breath, she bent forward and moved her neck upward from its place in his arms. Grabbing onto his thin shoulders to hold herself up, she gently brushed his lips with her own before drawing back and looking into his eyes. Erik stared down at her with shock, frozen into place. Before he could even process what had occurred, Christine again leaned forward and used her two tiny hands to remove the white porcelain from his face. He gasped as she kissed him more deeply now, moving her mouth within his slowly, hands at the side of his face and through his dark hair. Recovering himself, Erik finally kissed her back...grasping onto her shoulders and holding her up to him, his heart racing with a bliss he had never once before experienced.

Then they drew back for air, and he stared down with wonder at the helpless woman in his arms...who had just dared to touch him so deeply when no one else ever had...who he was dooming to a life of living in the darkness as his unwilling prisoner.

Christine felt several tears run down her cheeks as she realized she could no longer deny what she had been feeling for so long. The realization ran through her veins like fire, illuminating all of the secret thoughts she had kept hidden in the darkest corners of her mind. Yes, the first kiss had been given in the form of pity...in the hopes that she could give him relief from some of his pain.

But in the second kiss, which she had not planned, she had felt all of the passion inside of her rise up and flow desperately through her lips, and she realized that she desired him almost as much as he desired her. Though she knew she should continue to fight, she wanted to submit completely to him, allow him to carry her off into the winter night with no resistance. God, she loved him...even if it was completely wrong...she could no longer pretend.

Slowly recovering from the blissfulness, Erik saw her tears and knew immediately why they must be falling. Forever she would wake up and look upon his wretched, repulsive features. Forever she would live in the cold darkness with only a disgusting monster to brush lips with. She had dared to kiss him, without his mask, wanting to see just what her future held. Now she knew, and she was horrified.

He could still feel the tingle of her touch against his twisted mouth and wished the sensation to last for an eternity, for he knew he would never experience it again. Several tears fell from his golden eyes as he looked upon her soft, beautiful form in his arms. He could take her so easily now, force her into becoming his bride, but he could never get her to love him. No one could ever look upon him with love.

Christine lay there quietly now, leaning against him in a peaceful resignation, waiting to be taken away into the cold night air. She felt Erik hug her closely against his chest and very softly whisper to her. "Oh, Christine. I love you so much. God, how I love you."

She felt him began to move, and she knew that she would not cry out now. The passion inside of her overpowered her resentment. All of a sudden, though, she felt a soft coldness strike her back through her thin dress. Opening her eyes, she realized that she was laying back upon the hospital bed. From below, she could make out Erik's anguished face as he quickly replaced his mask.

"Erik..." she whispered in confusion, as he backed away from her in an unusually ungraceful manner.

"I...I will leave you alone now," he said softly. " I am sorry. Forget everything. Forget this entire nightmare." He turned to leave with pure pain in his eyes, and she could feel a devastation build up inside her. As he walked out the door, she tried to call to him, but the words would not leave her mouth. She had a choice! Here was her chance, and she was the scared little girl again...too afraid to make a decision. Finally she sat up and gathered her strength.

"Erik!" she called out loudly, not caring if she was heard by the entire hospital. This was her last chance. If not now, she would be whisked off to some far away manor, and for all she knew he would be dead at the hands of the police. "Erik!" she called again.

Pulling herself up in bed, she turned her body and placed her good foot onto the floor. Slowly standing up and balancing herself, she hopped against the cold, wooden surface to the entrance, praying he was not already far gone. Opening the door of the room, she stuck her head into the empty corridor and called out to him again, suddenly feeling herself become dizzy from the effects of the injury. It had been a long time since she experienced such physical exertion.

As the hallway began to tilt and sway, she suddenly lost her balance. Christine could feel herself began to fall down into the blackness, and with horror, she realized she was about to land on top of her broken ankle. Crashing down to the ground, she heard a sickening crunch that was followed by a blinding pain. Laying her head against the cold floor in agony, she felt herself begin to fade away. For a moment, Christine thought that she saw a shadow lean over her, but she could not tell whether it was Erik or just the beginnings of unconsciousness. On the slim chance that it was him, she whispered, "I love you," before everything became dark.

* * *

"She is awakening." 

"Lord...look at how swollen it is."

"I told you I needed more ice. Hurry girl!"

The medley of voices floated around her, mostly female, with one male giving an order now and then. Christine fluttered her eyes open and gazed around, the room slowly coming into focus. For a moment, she did not understand why everyone was crowded around her, but then the pain hit her, and she remembered everything. A nausea swept over her, and she placed her hand to her forehead and groaned.

"Mademoiselle," began the doctor softly. "Can you hear me?" She nodded, still only half conscious. He turned to the nurses. "How are you doing over there?"

There was a reply. "We have rewrapped it, but it is still very swollen. Though she has worsened the original breakage, it does not appear that there has been an additional fracture. Better watch it for an infection, though."

The doctor turned back to Christine. "Mademoiselle, I know you are in a daze, but how on earth did this happen? I do not understand."

"I...fell," she softly mumbled.

"But then how did you get back upon the bed? How were you able to climb with this injury?"

"Back on the bed?" she asked dumbly.

"Yes, Mademoiselle. I hear you scream and come to find you laying on the bed unconscious with your ankle torn apart."

Christine tried to register what he was saying for a moment. Then a calmness came over her. Erik had heard her call! He had come back to her, placing her back upon the bed and disappearing before anyone saw him. Even in pain, a relief overtook her, and she felt warm tears of both agony and joy run down her cheeks. She smiled at the doctor through blurry eyes. He just shook his head.


	9. Chapter 9

**I am glad everyone enjoyed the last chapter! Thanks for the wonderful reviews! I really enjoyed writing it. **

"Monsieur, I really wish you would reconsider this. All healing that had occurred was completely erased once she broke the bone again. Are you sure you cannot accommodate her staying here just another week?"

"Doctor, it has become obvious to me that Christine is not being properly cared for in your institution. How on earth, may I ask, did she break her ankle again? Isn't there someone nearby that can assist her when she needs to get out of bed so that this type of thing does not happen? I can assure you that I have a well-trained staff of servants who can watch over her. If need be, I will hire my own nurses, and my family is well acquainted with a physician who lives nearby." The Vicomte sat up straight in the chair and folded his arms in determination.

"But Monsieur...just a few days...a week at the most. Give her more time to heal." Doctor Murrell rubbed his hand over his eyes in frustration, beginning to understand fully why the girl had run off. He could only imagine what this young man would do if he knew of Mademoiselle Daae's late night visitor. The doctor would be damned before he said anything of it, though.

"I do not believe that this is a good environment for her to be in. Tomorrow, I shall take her to the manor, and she will heal just as well as she could here. When it is time for the bandaging to be removed, I shall return her."

The doctor sighed in resignation, knowing he had little control over the situation. "Very well, Monsieur. I will abide by your wishes. Christine will be ready to go home tomorrow."

"Thank you, doctor," replied Raoul briskly, standing up. He quickly shook the doctor's hand and confidently strode toward Christine's room to tell her the good news. Opening the door, he looked in to find her staring into the distance with a look of peace upon her face. She glanced up as he entered.

"Christine," he began with a smile. " I have a wonderful surprise for you! Tomorrow, you shall leave this dreary place and come stay at the manor of some close friends where I will get you the care that you need. We will finally be able to get out of this city until our safety is certain." He continued to smile, awaiting her reaction. She just stared at him in wide-eyed shock, slowly taking in his words.

"Raoul...but...my ankle...I do not think I am quite ready to leave," she stuttered out.

"Oh, Christine. I am fully aware that you are not completely healed, but you will get much better care where I am taking you. You will have your own maids, nurses...even a doctor if need be, and I will be there often. Surely you do not want to stay in this wretched place."

"Can you please give me more time here? Tomorrow is too soon. I...I would like some more time to prepare." A feeling of helplessness began to overtake her.

He gave her an odd look, not expecting this reaction. "You shall leave tomorrow," Raoul stated firmly. "I do not like you being in the city for so long with that monster still on the loose. When he is finally dead or in chains, we can begin to live normally again." She could feel her heart began to pound in pure horror at these thoughts. In one last hopeless attempt, she made a final plea to her fiancé.

"Raoul...please...I do not think he is a threat anymore, and I do not think I am ready to leave," she begged, holding back tears as she gazed up pathetically at him.

"Christine, you are acting very oddly and perhaps you are just tired from your recent collapse. I will let you rest now, and I am sure you will later find yourself thrilled at the thought of leaving. Now, I must go meet with an Inspector, but I will see you sometime tomorrow morning. Get some rest." He kissed her cheek quickly as she just sat there and stared straight ahead.

Throughout the day, Christine lay motionless upon the bed, staring blankly at the gray walls of the room. She remembered nurses coming in several times...the doctor coming in to wish her well...and Raoul coming in once more to give her the final details of her departure. Her array of visitors blended together, though. All of her thoughts were focused on the approaching night, and she wondered if she had finally discovered something only to now lose it.

Doubts continued to plague her mind as the evening approached, each one making her feel all the more ill. What if...someone else had laid her back upon the bed? It seemed...implausible, but yet, what if it were true? Or what if Erik had returned, but he had not heard her words and didn't come back tonight? Could she live the life of a Vicomtess knowing what she knew now? She wasn't sure, but the thought of her trapped in a far off estate while Erik was murdered or imprisoned horrified her.

Outside, the noises of the city quieted down, and Christine knew that it was becoming late. A quarter moon shown into her dim room, illuminating the various pieces of furniture with an ethereal glow. At every faint noise and moving shadow, Christine turned her head in the hopes that he had come, but as the hours passed she began to believe that he was forever gone. Finally, around midnight, she let out a long sob and felt her eyes fill up with tears as a deep ache consumed her heart. All of this time...she had so many chances to grow up...to stop hiding. Now that she had finally done so, it was too late. She cried quietly for a while into the folds of the covers, feeling herself slowly becoming exhausted as the morning approached.

* * *

He bitterly cursed himself for returning. He should have left her on the bed last night and not looked back, just as she would have wished him to. Then she would finally be able to exist in peace with her boy where she would live in wealth and luxury...always having his perfect face to gaze upon each morning. Hopefully she would forget everything he had put her through...place the wretched memory of kissing a corpse from her mind. _I can never love you..._The truth of those words stung like knives. 

After leaving her room in anguish and with the touch of her still upon his lips...he had started to walk blindly into the night, determined never to return. The only thing that had made him whirl around was the sound of his name echoing through the hospital corridors. To hear her angelic voice say his name once more was a slight soothing to his misery, and he could not help but look back. Just as he did, he heard her give a yelp of pain, and he had rushed to her collapsed form in the doorway of her room.

As if he had already not been through enough hell that night, Christine had gone and mistaken him for her accursed boy! Thinking that it was the Vicomte that hovered over her, she had told him that she loved him, and he had felt as if a shard of glass ripped through his heart. But he had placed her back upon the bed and left her for the doctor...again vowing never to come back.

Why was he standing here at her door then? To continue to haunt her and make her life miserable? The only thing that had brought him back was the fact that she had called out his name that night...that she had nearly killed herself to call to him. But God, she probably just wished to say goodbye, to make for sure that he would not come back to ruin her life.

With disgust at himself, he turned to leave from the room. Then he heard her pitiful sobs coming from inside and cringed. Why did she have to torture him so? Why could he not let her alone? He hated himself for not just going, and he hated her for reducing him to this. One last time, he would look upon her. Hopefully she would not even see him come in, and then he would leave her life forever.

Slowly he opened the door with a soft creak and saw her crying into her pillow. She whipped her head around at the sound and looked up at him in surprise. He expected to see disdain...perhaps even horror in her eyes at the thought that he had come back to take her again. Her sobbing had stopped, though, and she was staring up at him with an unrecognizable expression.

After a moment, he heard her give a soft, shaky sigh, and she sat up in the bed. He did not dare come any nearer, though. "Erik," she choked out in what almost sounded like relief. "You came back! I...I thought that you did not hear me call to you last night! After I fell, I thought I saw you, but I was beginning to think it had been my imagination and ..." she tapered off, continuing to gaze up at him.

"And it appears you have injured yourself even worse," he finished wryly."What exactly were you thinking, Christine? What compelled you to jump across a hardwood floor in the dark with a broken ankle?" He had not planned to confront her so coldly, but the look on her face was putting him on edge.

"Erik, you left so quickly that I had no time to say anything. I tried to tell you before...before I fainted, but I guess it was not you whom I saw above me," she said softly. He said nothing and quickly looked away from her, not daring to believe...no. He could not bear to stay here any longer.

"What did you wish to tell me Christine? Goodbye? So tell me...and I shall leave you alone."

Her heart began to beat quickly as the fear rose up inside of her again. She had to say it now, though, or she would always regret it. "Erik...I tried to tell you that...I love you," her voice broke slightly as a tear fell from her cheek. He closed his eyes and tried to calm himself, shaking slightly, not believing what he was hearing. Finally, he whirled around.

"How can you say that now?" he rasped. "You have done nothing but try to get away from me! Yesterday you tell me you could never love me, and you break into tears after you lay your lips against my hideous face. Do you take pleasure in torturing me, Christine? Because I will tell you that I can be pushed only so far!"

"No," she shook her head rapidly. "I did not mean those cruel words. But...I did not want to be taken against my will. I was frightened. And I cried afterward because I finally realized how much I..." She paused, trying to gather her thoughts as he looked down at her with nothing less than shock. "Everything... everything has been so confusing these last months. Raoul was pulling me here and there, telling me what was best for me, and you...you were always so angry with me. But..after I was able to think, I realized that I wished to be with you. I love you."

"And what of the Vicomte?" he asked furiously. "Do not pretend you do not feel for him, Christine. I remember the roof all too well!"

"Erik...Raoul was safe, and I do love him for trying to protect me. When I found out that you were not the Angel, I was scared. I went to him for comfort. But I do not feel for him like I do for you. I do not wish to be with him as I wish to be with you." Christine desperately reached out for him at that moment, wanting him to embrace her...to make sure he would not leave her. He just stared at her, though, and looked away.

"How can you possibly love me?" he finally asked quietly, the anger gone from his voice. "Have you forgotten my crimes, Christine? There are things in my past you should never have to know of. And this face...have you forgotten it completely? It is not something you should ever have to see...much less get _near_ to, again." His defenses were breaking down...and he wanted nothing more than to grab onto her, but she could not possibly know what she was saying.

She looked up at him with exhaustion. "Erik...all I know is that your past was extremely difficult. But...there is always forgiveness. Though I disobeyed you, no one was harmed the night that I ran away. You could have hurt someone I cared for, but you did not. And your face...it surprised me at first...but oh Erik, _please_ do not make me justify myself all night. I love you..no matter what that means."

Again she reached out to him, nearly tumbling off of the bed in the process. Instinctively, he came closer to catch her, and as he did, she wrapped her arms tightly around his waist, praying he would not push her away. For a moment, he just stood there stiffly. Then she felt him run his hands over her hair in soft, cautious strokes. Closing her eyes, she leaned her head against him...her heart slowly beginning to calm down.

"Christine..." he whispered weakly, as she continued to embrace him. "Promise me that you do not lie to me."

"I do not lie, Erik. I love you." She felt his long arms fold softly around her shoulders and for a moment she forgot everything. He just held onto her, wondering if he was in a twisted dream. After months of anguish and threats...of knowing that she could never love him, she was finally in his arms...in the little dreary room of a hospital.

The moment of bliss was shattered, though, as Christine remembered her earlier cause of distress. She gazed up at him and spoke with worry. "Erik...Raoul is taking me from here tomorrow. I cannot tell him about this. He will not understand and think that I am under your control. He will go to the police!"

Erik glared angrily at this news, the familiar feeling of frantic jealousy overtaking him. Thoughts of whisking her away this very second filled his mind as he lovingly looked down upon the Angel that was so willingly within his arms. She was finally his. She wanted to be with him. He could not lose her now.

Knowing that she loved him, though, Erik felt reason seep into his mind and saw the reality of what they were facing.

The Vicomte would summon the police if he took her. Though after the affair at the opera house the police were wary of continuing to pursue the unseen Phantom, a kidnaping would put them out in full force. They would likely find their way to his lair, and Christine would have to be carried from one hiding spot to the next through the freezing night air. She was likely prone to infection. In her newly worsened condition, the journey could easily kill her. Though Erik had some medical knowledge, he did not have the resources to properly care for her.

If anything were to happen to her because of his recklessness, he would just as soon die.

As she stared up at him with brown eyes that finally reflected the love he had possessed for so long, it was the hardest decision he ever had to make.


	10. Chapter 10

**Thanks once again for the reviews! I saw a lot of new people review so thanks for starting to read! And to those who have been reading and reviewing from the beginning, thank you so much! You guys all keep me going!**

**This is kind of a slow chapter. I promise more intense drama in the chapters ahead so please keep reading! **

Christine stared up at Erik expectantly, still gripping onto him, waiting for him to tell her where they would go that night. Even as she tried to remain strong for the difficult journey ahead, she could feel exhaustion engulf her from the injury and lack of sleep. With some alarm, she noticed that Erik was now gazing upon her with a certain degree of pain, and she wondered where his thoughts lay. "Erik?" she questioned. "What are we to do?" Unconsciously he tightened his embrace around her small form. Her face was very pale, and the dark circles under her eyes betrayed her hidden fatigue.

"Christine," he began, keeping his voice as steady as possible. "When does the Vicomte plan on espousing you?"

She was confused by the question but answered honestly. "He said that as soon as I was able to walk down the aisle, he would begin preparations. But what does that have to do with anything? I will not marry him now, Erik."

Her words calmed him, not only because he now knew that they had precious time, but because they continued to confirm her love. That was all he needed to say the next painful sentence. "You must...go with the Vicomte tomorrow." She opened her mouth to protest, but he silenced her with a firm look. "No, Christine. You are in no condition to be carried through this weather on an escape from the police. It will kill you. I do not have the resources and am not in the situation to take proper care of you at this time."

Christine's eyes widened, and she clutched onto the soft material of his suit. "Erik...please...do not leave me now. Not after everything! I will always think of you. I..."

Erik interrupted her, trying to compose himself. "Please allow me to finish, Christine. If you still so desire...when you are fully healed...I shall come for you before you are wedded. By that time, you will be in better health, and I will have secured us a safer place to stay. Until that time, you must stay where you can rest without turmoil."

"What if Raoul takes me far away? And the police! Raoul told me that he went down to your home, Erik! He could lead them to you! Let's just go before it is too late!" To have her plead in tears to be with him...it was something that he never thought he'd hear in his lifetime. He wanted nothing more than to take her safely into his arms and carry her to a place where no one would dare ruin their happiness. At this time, though, no such haven existed.

"Do not concern yourself with my safety, Christine. I am quite adept at concealing myself, and I very much doubt that the capture of the Phantom is high on the list of priorities. It seems that the Parisian police are not exactly on good terms with the opera house, as the Opera Ghost never made his appearance. As for you Christine...you shall never go far enough to where I will not be able to reach you. Have you not figured that out yet?" He managed to draw a small smile from her worn face.

Her worries did not concern him, for they only involved his keeping a low profile, something he had learned to do well over the years when it became necessary. Only one fear lingered deeply in his mind, and it was something that he had no control over once she left the little room of the hospital.

What if she adored the lifestyle of a Vicomtess once she was safely tucked away in the expansive manor? There was no doubt that she felt some love for the boy, even if it was not the passionate kind. What if when he returned for her, she did not wish to come? He would have to let her go again, and he knew that it would kill him. These thoughts very nearly made Erik give into her pleas. Only her weary face kept him firm.

Christine choked back her tears but began to understand the depth of what she was asking now. For Erik to have to carry her place to place, especially while she was ill, would endanger both of their lives once Raoul contacted the police. Her body ached both physically and emotionally as she clung onto him tightly with no more words of protest, deciding to make the best of the next hours. There was a long moment of silence, and Christine allowed her mind to wander over the strange events of the last year. There was something she had to know before he left.

"Erik...I have been wondering about the night I ran away. What...what would have happened should I have chosen to perform?" She felt him tense underneath her and wondered if it would have been better to stay quiet.

"I cannot say, my dear. That would have depended on you." His calm, cryptic answer was unsatisfying.

"But...were you just planning to watch me upon the stage? Please Erik. You know more than you tell me. I shall not be angry." There was a long silence in which he kept his gaze straight ahead, debating whether to reveal to her just what would have befallen her that night.

"Let us just say that the duet was not meant to be sung with Piangi."

"I do not understand. _The Point of No Return_?"

"Yes." Her mind absorbed these words and attempted to decipher them.

"But if not Piangi, then who...Oh Erik! You were going to go up on the stage with me? There were gendarmes everywhere! It would have been suicide!"

"If my position had been given away...perhaps it would have been," he replied softly with just a slight tinge of hostility.

"But why? Why would you do that?" That was a piece of information he was not willing to give away...perhaps not ever.

"It is inconsequential. You chose not to perform that night, and perhaps it was in your best interest. I do not wish to discuss it any longer. It is over." Christine frowned in resignation and allowed herself to wonder for a moment just what Erik's revelation would have meant for her. She shuddered and quickly brushed it from her mind.

They only had a few more hours together before the nurses would begin their morning visits, and Christine wished for them to be peaceful ones. Shyly, she scooted over on the bed slightly, not looking up at him. Erik just stared at her uncertainly for a moment, but her deep blush confirmed that it was an invitation. Cautiously, he sat down beside her. With a small smile that hinted of sadness, she lay her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes, beginning to cave into her exhaustion. He wished the moment to last forever, tucked in the dark little room where no one would bother them...where there was no miserable past or uncertain future.

Finally, the dawn approached and the clatter of breakfast dishes could be heard in the hallway. If he did not leave then he would be seen. Quietly Erik tried to get up without stirring her, but she had already been awake, dwelling on the weeks ahead. As he moved to leave, she turned to gaze up at him, trying one more half-hearted plea. "Are you sure I cannot come with you now?" she asked quietly.

" I shall see you within weeks, Christine. Do not think you shall get away so easily from me my dear," he said wryly. "I shall have my duet, be it on stage or not." As he moved to stand up, he felt her hands grab onto his shoulders. Turning around, he once again found himself surprised as she placed a soft kiss at the corner of his unmasked lip. He tilted her chin up to admire her one last time and then left the room without looking back. Biting her lip until it bled, Christine fought to stop from crying.

* * *

Most of the dreary morning was filled with the nurses preparing Christine to leave from the hospital. She sat motionless as they helped her to wash and refresh herself from the short stay. Glancing out the window, she noticed that a cold drizzle had begun to fall, casting a depressing haze upon the city. The pain in her foot had become a dull, steady ache, bearable but still miserable. Cecile repeatedly asked her if she felt well, and Christine always assured her that she was just tired. 

Christine was given some relief that morning from her troubling thoughts. About an hour before Raoul came to retrieve her, Madame Giry and Meg entered her room with sympathetic smiles upon their faces. Both wanted to wish her well, as the Vicomte had told them that she would be leaving the city that day. Meg quickly ran up to the bedside and embraced her.

"Christine! How are you feeling? I am sorry I did not come earlier, but the weather has been dreadful, and I did not know you would be leaving so suddenly."

Christine managed a half-hearted smile at her best friend. "Oh, do not worry Meg. I am happy that you came before I left. It looks like I have gotten myself into quite a mess, doesn't it." She turned to the older woman. "Hello Madame. Thank you so much for coming today. I have missed you both these last few days."

Madame Giry smiled warmly. "I was happy to come, child. When you first disappeared, I was quite afraid for you. It seems as though you are safe now. We shall definitely miss you at the opera house, though with your engagement I suppose it was only a matter of time before you left us."

Christine averted her eyes, not wishing to reveal herself in any way. "I shall dearly miss it there, Madame. Though with my ankle, I doubt I could dance anymore anyhow."

"That is true." The older woman could tell something was bothering Christine. "Is everything well with you outside of your poor ankle? You are...safe?"

"I am well and safe, Madame." Christine knew that Madame Giry had a knowledge of the more mysterious events in the opera house, but she was not about to tell her all that had occurred. At the same time, though, it would be wise to have contacts in the city, and she would miss both of them dearly. "Please...continue to visit me every so often while I am gone. I wish to remain close with you and Meg...even after I am married."

"Of course, Christine. I am sure we can find time to visit you. Meg will be very upset if she cannot." And with that, Christine chatted a little while longer with her two friends, finding some comfort in the gray morning before she had to leave.

Soon after they had departed, the Vicomte walked briskly into the hospital room, very content to see that Christine was awake and ready to go. He arrived in a fairly foul mood after his meeting the day before with both an Inspector and one of the higher officers of the police force. Both men had more or less told him that, unless he could bring them sufficient evidence regarding the Phantom's crimes...or even his existence, they were not going to devote anymore men to the case. When Raoul told them about the underground home, they looked at him as if he had gone slightly mad. He had stormed out.

As he met Christine that day to bring her with him, he attempted to hide his irritation. She looked at him wearily as he entered and allowed him to kiss her cheek. "Christine," he began tiredly. "Thank God we are getting out of here today. The police force is being completely unhelpful."

"What happened?" she asked, trying to keep her hopefulness concealed.

"They do not seem to believe me when I tell them of what a threat this man is. He shall have to murder another person before they take me seriously. But I will not give up yet. There are always private investigators who will work for as long as they are compensated."

Christine tensed. "Perhaps...perhaps we should just forget about everything, Raoul. I do not think he is a threat anymore. Let's just leave him alone." Her voice shook slightly, and she prayed he could not see the deceit in her eyes.

"There is no doubt in my mind that he will continue to pursue you, Christine. But, anyhow, today is not the day to think about it. It is time to celebrate your getting out of this hospital and out of this city."

Within the next hour, Christine was taken to an awaiting covered carriage where she laid her throbbing head against the soft seat in relief. Before she left, she said goodbye to Doctor Murrell and also gave him her deepest thanks. He knew that she was referring to more than the care of her ankle but just smiled and wished her well. As the carriage drove away from the hospital in the early morning hours, she stared backward and wondered if Erik was watching her at that moment. When they passed the opera house for the last time, she gazed out at it for a long while...remembering all of the events that had taken place. She felt Raoul place an arm around her shoulder as they passed the enormous building. He drew her up against him, and she instinctively shifted in the opposite direction.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, slight hurt in his blue eyes.

"No...I just do not feel well at the moment." They sat in silence the remainder of the long drive.


	11. Chapter 11

**Thanks again for all your reviews! They especially helped through this chapter, which I had some difficulty writing. This will be entirely from Christine's point of view and the next chapter will show the other events occurring at the same time. If you find some things unclear, for example Raoul's attitude, they will likely be revealed in the following chapter.**

The three story stone manor looked very similar to most of the other estates she had seen in her lifetime. Carefully landscaped with an array of now barren trees, the gray structure sat stoically by itself, almost blending in with the overcast sky. It lay two hours from the city, and the isolation gave Christine a lonely feeling as she stared up at what was to be her home for the next six to seven weeks.

The house belonged to one of the de Chagny family's close friends, Monsieur Jacques Ames . He allowed his eldest son, Laurent, and his wife, Sophie, to take residence there when they visited northern France. At this time, Laurent was off in England with relatives, and Sophie remained in the house alone with the maids and other servants. It seemed like an opportune place to allow Christine to rest and was the farthest that the Vicomte was able to conveniently get away from Paris.

Entering, Christine saw that the interior of the house emitted the same feeling as the outside. It was conspicuously cleaned and furnished expensively, yet seemed drab and empty. Every piece of mahogany furniture had the same design and every settee and sofa was the same dull shade of blue. She only saw as far as the enormous entryway before she was guided toward the winding stairwell of the left wing.

"You shall be staying on the second floor," said Raoul as he and one of his servants helped to lift her upwards. "I attempted to get a room with a nice view for you. If you squint, you can even make out the opera house, though...perhaps you do not wish to see it after everything that has happened."

"No...no. I would be very grateful to be able to see it, Raoul. I have many good memories from there." As she entered what was to be her bedroom, she was thankful to see that it had a little more color to it than the rest of the house. Light purple cotton sheets and blankets decked a queen-sized bed, and a gigantic ornate throw rug lay in the middle of the floor. The walls were a pure white color that gave the room a softer glow, and oak wood furniture lined the walls. There were also various dolls and ceramic objects set here and there, giving the room a slight childlike appearance. With some relief, she noticed that a shelf of books lined the wall and knew that they would help her pass the painful hours. She did have to admit it was more cheerful than the hospital room, but it did not lift her spirits significantly.

After making sure she was comfortable, Raoul introduced her to some of the maids and nurses that would be aiding her, but she doubted that she would remember most of the names. Sophie, the lady of the house, was out at the moment, and Christine gathered that she would not see much of her. Sophie's quarters were on the far right wing of the manor, and Raoul mentioned that she was not a sociable person. This news, along with the emptiness of the enormous abode, gave Christine an uneasy feeling. She told herself, though, that she would likely feel miserable no matter where she was staying.

The first three weeks passed as she expected them to. Many dull, idle hours were filled with romantic novels and her own private thoughts. At the advice of one of the nurses, she attempted to take up needlework but found herself to be useless at it. Raoul came by at least every other day to see her. Though she tried to pretend to be pleased with his visits, her heart was never in the conversation, and he usually did most of the talking. As each day passed, she missed Erik more, and she prayed for his safety. It was odd. After so many months of trying to escape him, now she ached for his company and was not able to have it. The events of the last year began to seem like some surreal dream. Angels, underground labyrinths, and ghosts did not exist in the elaborately decked bedroom.

Her only connection to her former life came on Saturdays, when Madame Giry and Meg stopped by to pay visit, giving her the latest news and gossip at the opera house. She felt downcast as she heard of the many happenings, no longer connected to the glamorous world of the stage. On one occasion, when Madame Giry had left the room for a moment, Christine hesitantly asked Meg about the Opera Ghost. Meg frowned and said that nothing had been heard of him since the night of _Don Juan_, and Christine did not know whether to take this news as good or bad. If Erik was well, at least he was keeping a low profile.

It was during her fourth week there, though, that several changes suddenly occurred. On a Monday morning, Raoul walked into her room with an odd glint in his blue eyes and the traces of a smile upon his face. "Good morning, Christine," he greeted her as he strode confidently in.

"Good morning Raoul. Is everything all right?" She attempted to discern what he was thinking.

"Yes, my love," he replied heartily, giving her a kiss on the cheek. " Everything is wonderful. I feel better than I have in a long time, actually. But...I do have some bad news, I am afraid."

"What is it?" she asked uncertainly.

"It seems that one of my land contracts in southern France has run into some difficulties. Someone thinks they own part of my purchase already, but I will not go into the dull details with you. Anyhow, I will need to take a trip down there for about two weeks to sort things out. You will be fine here by yourself, won't you?"

Christine was shocked that he was leaving her alone after being so concerned for her safety. Just several days ago, he had been considering hiring several guards to place near the front of the entryway. There was something odd about his sudden change of mind. "Yes. I will be fine here," she replied, watching him curiously. "Is...is there anything else?"

He looked uncomfortable for a brief moment. "No..that is all. I am just excited about our upcoming future together. Just as soon as your ankle heals, we shall be married and finally begin our new lives." His tone had a falseness to it, and she shifted nervously, averting her eyes. He chatted a while longer about wedding preparations, continuously keeping his cheerful demeanor and mentioning nothing of the turmoil of the past months. Finally he grew tired of her lack of participation and stood up. "Well, I shall come tell you goodbye tomorrow, my love. Rest easy."

"Good bye Raoul." She had not seen him this optimistic in a very long time, and she could not shake the feeling that something was not quite right. As he departed, a tension overtook her. For a while she pondered what could make him change his mind so suddenly. Why had he not even mentioned her well being? Sighing, she attempted to take her mind from the troubling thoughts and absorbed herself within a book.

The second change of events came the following day, when Raoul walked in accompanied by a man around his own age. Dressed in a meticulously pressed gray suit, he was moderately attractive with trim brown hair and hazel eyes. His face bore a smug expression, though, of someone quite used to getting whatever they desired.

"Christine!" said Raoul with a smile as he entered. "I would like you to meet Monsieur Laurent Ames, the resident of this house and an old friend of mine. Just today, I came to discover that he returned from England early. Though I was not expecting him till after we departed, I have to say that it will be good to have him here while I am gone."

"It is nice to meet you," she said quietly, staring nervously up at him. Though she was fully dressed, it was slightly odd being in bed with a strange man in her room.

"A pleasure, Mademoiselle," he replied with a small smile. "You are quite a beautiful woman. I am sure that Sophie would love to meet you." She blushed uncomfortably as his eyes grazed over her covered figure.

Raoul smiled proudly, unaware of her discomfort. "Yes, she is. I am very fortunate to have her as my fiancee."

"Indeed." The two men talked business a moment as Christine looked on awkwardly, and then Laurent quickly excused himself so that the couple could say goodbye in private.

"Well, my Little Lotte, I shall hopefully see you in several weeks. By that time, your ankle should be just about perfect, though I would not suggest joining the ballet again," he said with a smile. The Vicomte still carried the same cheerful tone of yesterday, completely at ease.

"Goodbye Raoul," she replied softly as he kissed her, a nervous feeling continuing to pursue her. Though Raoul's change in attitude still bothered her, she also suddenly found herself not wanting to be alone in that manor. A strange feeling began to sit at the pit of her stomach.

Several days passed without any new occurrences. In many ways, it was a relief not having Raoul around so that she did not have to put up a happy facade as he dwelt on their future. She felt guilty at her deception but now knew that her feelings would not change. Every day she wished for Erik to appear at her doorway in the place of her fiancé and wondered if he was watching her from a distance. Though sometimes Christine felt like crawling on her hands and knees to the opera house, she knew that she must remain patient while she healed or she would endanger them both. Only a few books remained to be unread, though, and soon she would be left only with her thoughts.

The following Friday night, Christine tossed and turned in bed as she was kept awake by the continuous drone of noise downstairs. She had heard the maids talk earlier of a party to be held that night to celebrate the homecoming of Monsieur Ames. From upstairs, she listened to the clatter of dishes and the sound of voices laughing and talking. Every once in a while there was a shout, likely coming from someone who had a tad too much to drink. Putting her pillow over her ears, she attempted to block out the noise to no avail.

At some late hour, though, the din finally died down and she began to drift off into a fairly peaceful sleep. About an hour later, she was awoken by the creak of her bedroom door opening. Startled, she sat up in bed and saw Monsieur Ames standing at the doorway in the dark, staring at her form. She shivered slightly, and her eyes widened. "Monsieur? What are you doing here?" she stuttered out.

He walked in with a dazed swagger. "Hello, Mademoiselle Daae," he slurred. "How are you feeling today?" She just stared at him in fear. "Well, it is polite for a lady to answer, you know." The gentleman came closer, a disturbing lopsided smile upon his face.

"Please, Monsieur," she whispered. "Please leave. It is late." Christine prepared to scream for help.

"But you are so lonely in here. Don't you want company?" As he came nearer, she started to let out a shriek, pulling the covers tightly around herself. He raised a large hand to place over her mouth, and she could see that his hazel eyes were completely glazed over. "Shhh. Just want to talk to you, Mademoiselle." The alcohol on his warm breath was rancid.

Just then and with relief she heard additional noise in her doorway and saw two maids rush in carrying lamps. Holding up the bright light over the bed, one called out to him. "Master! Master! This is Mademoiselle Daae's room, now. Come on. Let's get you back to your own quarters." She talked as if she were speaking to a small child and attempted to lead him away.

"I just want to talk to her. Get out women," he slurred gruffly, shrugging them away. They began to look helplessly around the room for a way to subdue him. At that moment, though, one of the man-servants rushed in, shaking his head in disgust.

"Come Monsieur. It is time to go to your own room with your wife. Leave the lady alone." He placed a firm grip on Monsieur Ame's shoulder and led him out of the room grumbling. The two maids followed closely behind muttering to one another. One turned to Christine on the way out with an apologetic look.

"I am terribly sorry Mademoiselle. He gets a little odd after he drinks too much. Hope you weren't frightened too badly." She shut the door carefully behind her with a soft click. Christine sat there still shivering in the dark.

The following morning, after barely getting a wink of sleep, Christine immediately requested a pen and a bottle of ink. Frantically, she began to scribble out a letter, carefully folding the piece of paper into a tight square when she was finished. Afterward, she anxiously awaited the arrival of Meg and Madame Giry. They were her only means of communication, and possibly her only way of getting out as soon as possible.


	12. Chapter 12

**Hello. Thanks for the reviews! Loved your reasons why Raoul was acting strangely, especially the one by White Plum! That was hilarious! **

**Quick Comment: I know some of you wanted Raoul to remain a good guy, and I promise that I won't make him completely OOC and crazy. But who can say what would have happened had he not seen Erik actually release them. I think he could have been paranoid. Remember his quote: _Yet while he lives, he will haunt us till we're dead..._**

**Secondly, outside of the chandelier timing, this is pretty much all play based rather than movie based. I'm going to make references to M. Giry and the graveyard scene, so if you are not familiar with the play, you may be slightly confused. Feel free to ask me questions about it.**

_This takes place while the previous chapter was occurring._

Slowly, the Vicomte tore open the delicate blue seal of the envelope. Reaching in, he took out a folded sheet of white paper and opened it to read the short handwritten message. Not believing his eyes, he read it for a second time.

To the Vicomte de Chagny,

The task has been accomplished. Please come as soon as possible.

_Private Inspector K. Darley_

Raoul refolded the letter and placed it carefully back into the envelope, still in somewhat of a state of shock. It was no secret that the past couple of weeks had been nerve racking for him. At every shadow he saw and at every strange noise he heard, the Vicomte found himself reaching for his pistol...sometimes when it was not even there. He was just waiting to find himself face to face with that monster in a dark alleyway one night. Or worse...he was waiting to find Christine suddenly missing.

One and half weeks ago, he had gone to the private inspector as his final hope. With the law no longer taking him seriously, the Vicomte had offered eighty thousand francs to Inspector Darley for the capture or demise of the Phantom. He knew that this particular private inspector was not necessarily a scrupulous man and that what he was requesting was more or less illegal, but Raoul was beyond caring. If the task was truly accomplished, and he doubted that it would be, he would leave Paris for several weeks to be sure that his name was not tarnished. The peace of mind would be worth a short trip away.

As the days passed by and with Christine safely in the manor, the Vicomte wearily began to make final plans for him and Christine to leave the city all together. The chances were slim to none that the Phantom would ever be caught. He had not even been able to give the inspector an adequate physical description. Tall, yellow eyes, wears a mask. Of course, there was supposedly a deformity, but he had never actually beared witness to it. Needless to say, he was not very hopeful when he had left the inspector's office that day.

Now, though, there was the arrival of this letter. Wasting no time, the Vicomte grabbed his wool coat and headed out into the drizzly winter weather.

Despite the note, the Vicomte could still not believe his ears once he arrived at the small brick office. "You...you are quite sure that it is him?" he asked the inspector cautiously. "Killing him should not have been an easy task. I shall need to see the body."

Sitting around the table were the Inspector and four other men. Two were dressed in pressed suits and were clean shaven while the other two looked as if they hadn't showered in several weeks. All, however, had the hint of a smile upon their faces as they gazed up at him. The Inspector stood up from his chair and made eye contact.

"Well, Monsieur. The man in question certainly matches your description. He has yellow eyes and a disfigurement, though perhaps not quite as you described it. These two men spotted a masked man one night as they were searching around the opera house and fired several shots before he saw them. He was dead in an instant." Inspector Darley motioned toward a door. "Come. I shall show you the body. "

Suddenly the Vicomte was very nervous. Could it really be true? Could the Phantom really be dead...just like that? Swallowing, he followed the group of men to a small room in the back. Upon a mahogany table, he made out the outline of a motionless body suited in black attire. Taking a deep breath, he went for the first time to look directly into the face of the thing that had been terrorizing him for so long.

It was only when he first glanced down, that he realized he did not even know what he was looking for. If truth be told, the closest he had ever been to seeing him was in the graveyard on a dark and foggy evening. The Phantom had possessed some ghastly flame throwing apparatus, shouting threats and daring the Vicomte to come closer to the blazing fireballs. Christine had quickly pulled him away before he had gotten a good glimpse. All he had seen was a tall, dark form with eyes that glowed like hot coals in the night. There was the Masquerade as well, but at that time the Phantom had been wearing a gigantic skull mask.

Looking down, he studied the corpse laid out before him. Well, the man was definitely deformed on one side, but it was not quite the death's head he had imagined from Christine's description. He was fairly tall, but tall enough? The eyes were definitely yellow, but they did not seem to carry the same fire as he remembered. Of course, now that he was dead, it was only natural for him to look less menacing.

Sighing, Raoul backed up, still not knowing if this was indeed the man who had made his life so miserable. The only way to truly find out was to see if the Phantom made his presence known at the opera house over the next few weeks. Perhaps, if all seemed well, he could even return to the underground home and see if there were any signs of life. "I shall pay you half," said the Vicomte, finally looking up. "But there are still matters to be attended to before I pay you in full." Reluctantly, the inspector and other four men agreed.

On the days that he was not visiting Christine, Raoul traveled to the opera house to attend private meetings with the managers. So far, Firmin and Andre were the only other souls he told of the current situation, hoping to keep the affair as secretive as possible. Each time he went, he asked if there had been any strange occurrences, and each time he was told that there had not been. There was nothing...no stage mishaps, mysterious notes, or disembodied voices. With each visit, the Vicomte's hopes grew stronger.

Finally, and with much apprehension, he took the final step and journeyed back down to the dark underground home. Conveniently, he found the boat awaiting him by the lake and slowly rowed his way back down the same path as before. Shaking, he looked through the iron gate and saw that all was completely dark and desolate. All of the candles that lined the labyrinth had burnt out, and there was no sign of life whatsoever. It was at that moment that he breathed a great sigh of relief and accepted that the Phantom was truly dead.

Despite Raoul's attempt to keep the news quiet, it soon began to travel. Andre and Firmin were not the most discreet men when it came to discussing private matters and were one day overheard by a passing stagehand. The news spread its way throughout the opera house, though in various versions of the story. Raoul quickly made final plans to leave for a couple of weeks, lest he find himself in the middle of a tumultuous situation. Not wanting to leave Christine completely alone, though, he contacted Monsieur Ames by telegraph and asked if he would come home three weeks early due to an emergency. The man had agreed to but had been in foul spirits about it, only coming because he owed Raoul for a financial favor from several years back.

As Raoul prepared to go, he made certain that Christine was not aware of what had passed. She still was not well, and it was possible that the news would upset her. At this time, she still had a perverse sort of devotion to the mad man, and he did not want her to dwell on his death. After paying the other forty thousand francs to the inspector, Raoul had departed for the south of France.

* * *

It was about two hours after the Vicomte had paid him the other forty thousand francs that Inspector Darley heard someone knock three times loudly upon the door of his office. Opening the curtains to peek out the window, he saw one of the unkempt men who had been present when the Vicomte was viewing the corpse. The inspector waved and quickly opened the door. "Good morning, Monsieur. Here to take your part of the wealth I see." 

The man grinned. "Well, Monsieur, you certainly could not have done without me." He snorted. "I just cannot believe we actually got away with it. It almost seems a bit...too easy. "

The Inspector smiled. "The boy was willing to believe about anything to have some peace of mind. We probably could have brought a woman's corpse in here and convinced him that it was his Phantom." He chuckled. "So, Monsieur, who was that poor fellow you brought in here, anyway?"

"Eh..some guy that got on the wrong side of a fight the other night, I guess. Don't know much more. You said you wanted a tall dead man, and he was conveniently laying out in the morgue with a knife wound."

"I suppose about anyone would have done," commented the Inspector. " Nice job carving up the right side of the face, though. Not exactly a death's head but close enough. The Vicomte didn't know what he was talking about with the disfigurement anyway." He paused for a second and thought back. "And the glass eyes...how the hell did you get yellow ones?"

The disheveled man grinned. "Didn't. Just used a little glossy dye on a green set. Not difficult at all when you're in my line of work." His smile faded, and he shifted uncomfortably. "What if the real guy turns up some time? Then what?"

"Monsieur, if I actually believed a Phantom existed, I would have never come up with this in the first place. De Chagny's story sounded like a demented child's tale, what with magical mirrors and all that nonsense. In my opinion, the boy was slightly mad. Anyhow, if by a miracle this opera ghost is real, we will take care of the matter then. No worries." The Inspector smiled to himself. "Well, Monsieur...let me go get what you came for. Too bad your friend can't share the wealth."

"Friend?"

"The corpse." Both men burst out laughing as they divided up the money.

* * *

Madame Giry sat quietly in one of the ballet dressing rooms, mindlessly watching her girls dress for practice. Usually very strict about punctuality, she was already seven minutes behind schedule and almost felt like cancelling rehearsals all together. It was a Sunday afternoon, and the previous day she had just had one of the oddest and saddest conversations of her life. Quietly she looked down at the crumpled note she had received yesterday. It was still water marked with Christine's tears. 

She had gone to visit the young girl as she had done for the last three Saturdays. Meg had not accompanied her due to a mild cold. As soon as she entered, she noticed Christine's distraught expression and had immediately inquired as to what was wrong. Rather than tell her, though, Christine had made a request of the ballet instructor.

"Will...will you please give this to the Opera Ghost?" she had timidly asked as she held out a folded piece of paper. Madame Giry had just stared at her in shock. "Please...Madame. I cannot explain everything, but...please do it for me."

It was then that the older woman was forced to tell her the news. "Child...I would. But...the Opera Ghost is believed to be no longer living. He..he was killed by a rogue police force of some sort. I...the details are not exactly clear. I am sorry, dear." Madame Giry had then watched as her once quiet student had burst into hysterical tears. She had held Christine as she had sobbed into her shoulder, trying to understand what was wrong and almost ready to cry herself.

Christine had finally half-composed herself. Still releasing a sob every now and then, she had told Madame Giry of everything that had occurred up to the previous night. Madame Giry had listened in awe to the story and then embraced the girl once more. After poor Christine had nearly collapsed in bed with misery and exhaustion, Madame Giry had promised to find a way to get her out of that dreadful house. Before the older woman had left, she made for certain that Monsieur Ames had retired to his quarters. Christine would at least be safe for that night.

Now she sat, trying to figure out a way of removing Christine from the manor. Her thoughts wandered to the Phantom every so often. Christine had called him Erik. Erik. So that was whom she had been delivering letters for all these years. She had always felt a deep sympathy for the lonely man despite the havoc he wreaked and was happy to know that he had been loved in the end.

Sighing, she placed the letter back in her pocket and walked into the hall to prepare for lessons. For a second, she thought she saw a shadow at the corner of her eye but figured it must just be a trick of the mind. Taking the letter out again, though, she gazed down upon it in thought. Walking briskly down the corridor, she discreetly placed the note in the spot where the Phantom had once left his letters for her. Perhaps...perhaps no harm would come from trying.

Later that day, she returned to the hidden area, expecting it to still be there. The note was gone. She told no one.


	13. Chapter 13

**Hello! Thank you guys so much for the reviews! Hopefully it was a fun chapter to read.**

**I know that it could be slightly confusing, though, and I just want to clarify something. Madame Giry was the one who left the note for Erik at the opera house. Christine is still stuck in bed in the manor. **

**Okay...there is going to be some fluffiness throughout the next chapters. I know everyone prefers drama, and I promise more of that as well. (We've got the Vicomte, Monsieur Ames, and the Inspector to deal with still) But you have to let me have some fluff, too, or I get depressed and can't write. :)**

The handwriting of this note was not written in the same flowing cursive as that of her earlier letter to the Vicomte. Many of the crudely scribbled letters ran together in swirls of black ink, causing it to be slightly difficult to read. Similarly, the wording was not carefully thought out. It was blunt and choppy, with its sole point being to get the information swiftly across. Obviously, the letter had been written very quickly.

Erik,

I know that I am disregarding your wishes by asking this of you, but I need you to come to me now. Raoul is gone for several weeks on business and will not pose a problem. The manor stands alone and is about two hours directly east of the city. The name Ames is on the front gate. My room is on the second floor of the left wing. I believe it is the third room down, but I am not for certain. Please come soon.

Love,

_Christine_

I have just asked the maid. It is the second room down.

He could not but help smirk at the sentence concerning the Vicomte. "Gone for several weeks on business." _You certainly did not get your money's worth, boy._ The rest of the letter worried him, though.

After Christine's departure from the hospital, Erik had remained away from the opera house for a week. He had discovered a furnished and abandoned flat hidden amidst the city and chose to make himself scarce as the police wearily finished up their searches. Now that the Vicomte had found his way down to the lair, he didn't know who else would journey down there in search of the mysterious Opera Ghost.

Perhaps he would have been angrier at the inconvenience if he had not felt more alive than he had in his entire life. Christine Daae had told him that she loved him. She had kissed him without disgust, when some women had rather died than be near him. With the half-hearted belief that she would still wish to be with him in the end, he felt that he was able to sit through anything. On occasion, he still cursed himself for sending her off, thoughts of her finding renewed happiness with the Vicomte constantly torturing him. But...he had freed her to make her own decision. Now he could only pray that she did not change her mind, for letting her go again would no doubt destroy him.

About a week later, Erik had returned to the opera house in the dark of the night. Finding his lair completely untouched, he immediately began writing a letter to the managers demanding an increase in his salary to atone for the incident at _Don Juan_. In reality, he just wished to garner enough wealth to begin a new life or to make a quick escape if it became necessary.

As he was quietly delivering the note to its proper location, he became aware of a hushed conversation occurring between the two managers and the Vicomte. Listening in closely, Erik discovered that the Opera Ghost had apparently been exterminated at the request of the boy and that a body had been secured. He had to refrain from sending his eerie laugh reverberating off the walls of the opera house. For a brief moment, he considered leaving the letter there and throwing his voice around the room to terrify and mock them. Did they really believe he was so easy to be rid of?

Then, he thought of his Angel and realized that his "death" would make his future plans with her much more attainable. There would be an immediate cease in the search for him, and the Vicomte would not drag Christine off to some accursedly far away location. Silently, Erik tucked the letter back into his pocket. Over the next weeks, he kept himself well hidden, even darkening the lair should anyone come down to it. He imagined that the boy entered at least once and was actually glad he hadn't been there at the time. Despite the fact that another murder would have ruined everything Erik had gained, it would have required quite a bit of restraint to not bring out the lasso. The boy had just tried to have him killed. Should he not grant the boy the same courtesy?

All had gone quite smoothly until Madame Giry had placed a letter in its usual spot, on the slim chance that O.G. was still alive. If he took it, he knew that it would give his presence away. Seeing that it was from Christine, though, Erik immediately picked it up, knowing somehow that the ballet instructor would stay silent.

He only had to read it once to know that he would be leaving that night. The note sounded frantic, and Christine had taken the risk of revealing at least part of the situation to Madame Giry. Something was amiss. Despite his concern for Christine, he had to admit that he was pleased she still desired his company after living in a luxurious manor for several weeks. Weapon and note tucked safely with him, Erik left by carriage as soon as it became dark.

* * *

Christine laid quietly in bed throughout the day, staring blankly at the white wall as a numbness began to consume her. She had spent most of the previous night sobbing desperately into her pillow and had no tears left to cry. Exhausted, helpless, and utterly alone...she wished she could just fall into a deep sleep and dream for an eternity. 

The only vague hope she had was that Madame Giry would figure out some way to help her escape. But then what? Was she to marry Raoul as planned and forget everything that had occurred? That is what would have happened anyway. Now the thought made her feel eerily empty, though.

It was not that she thought a life with Raoul would be unbearable. He would protect and provide for her like a good husband, and she did have a childhood love for him. But knowing what she knew now, Christine would always wonder what could have been. There would always be a void inside, slowly eating away at her. She felt like screaming in devastation and rage whenever she thought of Erik's lifeless body laying somewhere unknown to her. She despised whoever had done it and silently cursed them with words she had heard only the male stage hands use.

In between her tears, she continued to plot ways of getting out, all of them seemingly futile. There had been no more late night incidents, but she had heard a heated argument between Monsieur Ames and she guessed what was his wife. Ever since he had come home, there was a tension in the household. Even the maids were at an unease most of the time, no longer merrily chatting as they went about their work. The enormous manor carried a darkness within it.

As the night fell, Christine closed her eyes and attempted to escape her heartache in sleep, hoping she would dream of him. Finally she fell into a restless slumber, still fairly conscious of her surroundings. It was hours past midnight when she was startled awake as her door opened with a soft click. Immediately she sat up in the bed and looked forward, vaguely making out the silhouette of a man in her doorway. Oh God. He was coming in again. She prepared herself to scream and prayed someone was nearby. Looking to her right, Christine saw an ornamental vase on the bed stand and grabbed it as a last defense. Tears ran down her cheeks as she tightly gripped the ceramic object. The fear, anger, and pain of the last several days coursed through her veins as she prepared to fight and yell.

The man slowly walked in and looked down at her. Gaze fixed upward, Christine opened her mouth to scream but choked in disbelief instead. She blinked several times to make sure she was not hallucinating and then tears of relief began to flow from her tired brown eyes. To prevent anyone from hearing her, she covered her mouth with her hand to stifle her sobs.

Erik found himself to be stunned for a moment, not quite sure how to take such a reaction to his presence. Had she not been the one to request so fervently that he come, he might have thought she wished him to go away. After a moment, Christine managed to stop crying. "You...you are alive," she finally choked out in a whisper. Now he understood. Madame Giry had told her of everything.

"Yes, Christine. I am quite alive. I did not mean for the news of my death to reach you in such a manner." Shaking slightly, she realized she was still grasping the vase and placed it back on the stand with a soft thud.

"Oh thank God," she sighed as she felt her body relax. "I thought..." She attempted to compose herself again, realizing that they may be short on time. "Please...get me out of here, Erik. I hate it here! Take me with you tonight. Whatever happens cannot be worse than this." Had it not been for her confounded ankle, she would have flown into his arms and made for certain she was not dreaming. She wished he would come closer instead of standing at the edge of the bed with his arms folded and an unreadable expression upon his face.

"I am going to assume that the vase was not for me. Would you care to tell me what is going on?"

The last thing she wanted to do then was go into details. As Erik looked down and noticed the exhaustion and desperation in her eyes, he knew for certain that he would not leave without her that night. "I cannot explain right now. This place...it is like being in prison. I just wish to get out!" Before he could reply, a woman's worried voice came from outside the door.

"What in heaven's name is going on in there? Is everything all right, Christine? Monsieur Ames is not in there again, is he?" It was one of the maids.

"No," Christine yelled back quickly. "I am fine. Everything is fine." She saw Erik's yellow eyes form into a steely glare.

As the sound of more voices could be heard outside, Erik realized they needed to move quickly and abandoned the interrogation. "Come. I am taking you with me. Remain very quiet." She nodded in pure relief as he scooped her into his arms and headed for the door. Gripping his neck tightly, she felt her heart calm down and laid her head against him as she had wanted to do weeks before. Quietly Erik darted his way through the dark hallways and down the stairs, carefully keeping an eye out for other people.

He had about made it to the front entryway, when a maid popped out from behind a corner. She gasped as the pair of yellow eyes approached her in the dark and flung herself back against the wall with a slight yelp. Knowing she would go for help, Erik picked up his pace but flew by her without a second glance. Just as he approached the door, a younger man in a blue silk robe came running toward him, waving a pistol in his hand. "Hey! What the hell are you doing in my house? Who are you?"

"Hurry," he heard Christine whisper in panic as she looked toward him. A shot was fired, but Erik had already made it through the doorway. Quickly he darted for the carriage, holding onto Christine with one arm and reaching for the lasso with the other. The man continued to race after them through the yard, waving the gun wildly.

As Erik quickly placed Christine into carriage, he glanced backward. "Would that happen to be Monsieur Ames?" he sneered, now with both arms available. He knew at a glance that the man did not have the skill to aim the gun properly...especially in the dark.

She looked up at him, eyes wide. "Yes," she whispered. "But...please. Let's just go. He...he did not actually do anything to me. I promise. I am fine now." He continued to glare. "Please, Erik," she pled. "Let him go. Hurry." With resignation, he gave into her plea and climbed into the carriage. He had started to move the horses forward when Monsieur Ames ran up beside him, attempting to aim the pistol again. With a curse, Erik whirled around and grabbed the man tightly by the neck. The young man gasped as he felt the long, cold fingers begin to cut off his airway and dropped the pistol in his approaching unconsciousness. After a moment, Erik released him and threw him forcefully to the ground. He heard Monsieur Ames give a soft groan from below.

"Your next encounter with me will not end so favorably," he hissed as he once again moved the horses forward. From behind him, he heard Christine give a long sigh of relief. Within minutes she gave way into her exhaustion and fell into a peaceful sleep with the knowledge that her Angel was alive.

Erik glanced back once at her dozing form, thoroughly grateful to have her with him again. He also silently cursed both himself and the Vicomte for placing her in such a wretched position. Had it not been for her frightful pleas, Monsieur Ames would not have survived the night.

For most of the journey he went along back roads so that no one would know the path they took once people were assembled to search for them. As they neared the city, he attempted to blend in with the many other carriages passing by, head hidden within a dark cloak. Christine awoke to the noises of Paris and raised herself up. "I am so happy to be out again," he heard her say softly, more to herself than to him. "I never wish to see that place again." He had never heard her speak so bitterly before.

"I do not know if you will find my place much more agreeable, my dear." He heard her laugh lightly.

"Erik, I am extremely looking forward to seeing your home again. And as far as agreeableness goes, I had rather live in a shack than stay in that manor." He did not reply but felt a slight relief come over him. She sounded genuinely happy to be there.

Finally they arrived at the opera house, and the horses came to a steady halt. Christine stared up at the building wondrously, realizing how much she had missed it this past month. Of course, when she had first run away, it had seemed like a dark, frightening place. Now, it looked somewhat inviting.

Erik came to the back and opened the door. She sighed and reached out for him to carry her again, knowing it would be quicker than hobbling down into the cellars. "I am afraid that I am going to be a nuisance for several more weeks. You shall wish me gone before long."

He stared at her for a second before chuckling almost sadly. "I do not see that happening in the near future, Christine." Checking to make sure no one was near, he quickly swooped her up again and walked quickly in through a side entrance, knowing few people would be around at this hour. He darted down the dark corridors so fast that, before Christine realized it, she was in the doorway of the familiar dressing room. Gazing around at it for a moment, she saw that it looked as she had left it. At least no one had replaced her yet.

With one hand, Erik quickly worked the contraption on the mirror and opened it. Christine gazed into the void behind it. He hesitated a moment, as if not quite believing the entire event was real. Then he felt Christine tightly embrace his shoulders, placing her warm cheek against his cool one. "Let's go," he heard her whisper and felt his heartbeat quicken. For the second time in her life, Christine was taken down into his underground world...this time with no deceptions or illusions.


	14. Chapter 14

**Glad you liked my chapter! I think it got the most reviews I have gotten so far. I love you guys!**

**I'll answer a question asked several times. Sorry About the Confusion! Why did Erik bring Christine to the opera house when that is the first place Raoul would look? **

**Erik's original plan was to have Christine heal and then get them a distance away. By leaving several weeks before she was healed, Christine kind of ruined that plan. That is why Erik was hesitant at first to get her out of the manor. Since Raoul is gone, though, and Monsieur Ames has little knowledge of the situation, the lair is safe for the time being. They will only be staying there a short time. It is not permanent! This chapter will explain in more detail.**

**This chapter is...pretty fluffy. It develops the relationship a lot...but I wouldn't call it pure pink fluff. More like...fluffy conflict.**

Through the massive iron portcullis, Erik rowed the small boat forward. Christine sat securely inside, carefully observing her candle lit surroundings. She was so entranced during her first descent down that she did not even remember much of it. To her, the labyrinth was still very mysterious...even if she had come to trust its inhabitant. Though she wished to look around the underground home, she had gotten so little rest in the past few days that exhaustion was quickly overtaking her. As they reached the shore, Erik looked down and saw her beginning to slump over in sleep. Quickly he picked her up, being careful of her half-healed ankle, and carried her to the little bed of the Louis- Philippe room.

She lay limply in his arms, and he held onto her affectionately for a moment before gently setting her down. As her head hit the pillow, Christine murmured "goodnight" and was instantly asleep. He gazed down at her sleeping form as he had done so many months ago after she had fainted. Though her angelic face showed some signs of maturation, she still looked extremely innocent.

An unpleasant feeling washed over him as he remembered what he had planned for that fateful night of so many weeks ago. He wondered if the whole _Don Juan _performance would have destroyed her. She would have despised him for humiliating her upon the stage, and, frankly, he would have deserved whatever fate he met. Rage and desire had consumed him that day, though. He had been willing to destroy anything and everything that got in his way.

Sighing, he went into the other room and flung himself into the open coffin. He looked up at the canopy above him and vowed not to bring any more distress upon her, especially after what she had just been through these last few weeks. Desire was replaced with a solid contentment. Christine was with him and that was all that mattered. After making sure that the door was firmly shut, he removed the mask and slept fitfully.

* * *

Christine awoke late into the next day and immediately sat up and took in her surroundings. The events of the night returned to her, and she laid back down with something akin to relief. At the same time, she was slightly nervous about being in the quaint little room again. She had come back to a place she thought she would not see again...and at one time had even been afraid to see again. Now, however, it seemed much more of a haven than a prison. 

She wondered where Erik was but chose not to call for him, not wanting to be a burden. It was already enough that she forced him to come get her before she had healed, ruining the carefully crafted plan. Even if Erik was somehow thought dead, they could not stay there for long. Raoul likely had no idea of his supposed death and would no doubt come down searching soon. Surely Erik had some sort of plan devised, though. Finally, her door opened a crack and he glanced in at her. "You are awake," he stated plainly.

Christine smiled. "Yes. I slept better than I have in quite a while...despite always being in bed. I cannot wait to get out of this cast." A concerned look came over her face as she thought this through. "How exactly will we go about doing that? I shall have to go back to the hospital for a day."

Erik saw a look he knew all too well as self-loathing hit her face and tried to console her. "Do not worry yourself, Christine. We shall manage. I have secured housing outside of Paris, and we will leave before the Vicomte returns. As far as your ankle is concerned, we shall see how intense the search for you is before deciding what course to take. There is one person here who is aware of my continuing existence, and it may be necessary for you to keep in contact with her."

"Madame Giry?" she asked, remembering the note. He nodded curtly, and there was a short silence. "Erik...how did you manage to get everyone to think you died? When I found out, I..." she choked slightly, the painful memory returning. He hesitated. It was not that he wanted her to think any more highly of the boy than she had to, but perhaps he would wait until she was in better health to reveal that news.

"It...was more of a convenient accident, my dear. I shall tell you of it another day. Now...is there anything I can get you? Breakfast? Something to read? If you would like, I can take you out of this room."

The way he quickly changed the subject on that question bothered her, but she willingly left it alone for the time being. "I...would definitely like to get out of bed sometimes, but I am fine for the time being."

"Very well. I shall check on you at a later time, then." He left the door open slightly and left. She found herself disappointed that he had departed so quickly.

Though more at ease then she had been in quite some time, Christine was also slightly troubled. She had feared this man for so long and now it seemed somewhat ridiculous. He treated her like royalty, giving her what she wished for and speaking no harsh words...but he remained strangely distant. His only touch came when he was handing her an item and their fingers brushed. When he carried her, it was always quickly and with precision...as if holding a glass vase that could not be broken.

When not helping her, he continued to plan for their future, organizing the final details of the house and making sure no one became aware of his existence. Occasionally, he sat at the organ and played something not of his own to help himself concentrate. She did not once hear a familiar chord of _Don Juan Triumphant _ring out. And never once did she see him without his mask...not since at the hospital when she had removed it to kiss him.

Their discussions were short, though he did tell her of the affairs of the opera house. She was interested to hear that rehearsals for _Faust_ had begun with Carlotta and Piangi in the lead roles. On one day, she could hear the couple singing from above, their loud voices seeming to shake the walls of the catacombs. Erik had glanced up from his work in distaste but said nothing. The entire night of _Don Juan _had more or less been forgotten, as had the incidences of the Opera Ghost. She knew it was unlikely that she would ever perform there again. It would draw too much attention as people recalled the events that surrounded her.

As their several days in the lair passed, she became slightly worried by their interactions. This is what she had feared for so long? Did Erik just want her as a doll of some sort to admire? She, after all, had been the one to initiate all intimate contact between them. Did he just want her as a friendly companion?

No. That could not be it. She had read the duet, and it was certainly about much more than companionship. Of course...she had never been extremely clear about what she wanted either. It was only about a year ago that she stopped believing in the Angel of Music. Christine had grown up since then, though. She knew what she wanted now, and perhaps it was up to her to break the barrier that the duet was meant to break.

It was two days before the night they were to leave, and still conditions were quite...platonic. As she often did, Christine requested that Erik carry her to the divan, and he agreed, keeping his eyes straight ahead and his grip on her firm. As he attempted to lower her down, she wrapped her arms tightly about his neck, almost crushingly. "You may release your grip," he said softly. Still she did not, though. "Christine?" She looked up at him, smiling, daring him.

With a sigh, he sat down on the divan with her still gripping on, now essentially in his lap. "What are you doing, Christine?" He sounded tired.

She realized it was going to be more difficult than she had thought. "Erik," she began, trying to choose her words carefully. "I did not come here solely so you could...take care of me. I have had enough caretakers to last me a lifetime." Christine released her grip but kept her hands on his arms. He could feel himself tense. After decades of withholding desire all together and months of withholding desire for her, though, he had become quite skilled at it.

"What is it that you wish for then? Please just tell me and stop playing childish games."

Now she was frustrated. "That is just it, Erik. I do not want to be a child anymore. You were going to sing that duet with me on stage. I am not completely dull. I know what the song was about."

He looked away from her and spoke bitterly. "Must you keep bringing up that night, Christine? Can we not just forget it? Do you wish me to burn the song, Christine? Will that make you happy, my _dear_?" She knew that she was bringing him toward a more dangerous mood but continued anyway.

"But that is the point Erik! I do not want to forget about it. Was...was it really your plan for me to come with you and just... I told you that I loved you, and I want to be with you."

"You are insufferable, Christine! You have no idea what you want! I am just waiting for you to tell me you wish to go with the boy again."

"Yes...yes. I do know what I want. I told you at the hospital, and it has not changed. I want...you. Not the Angel of Music. You." She sighed and laid her head against him, listening to his quickening heart. He closed his eyes tightly and remained motionless.

"You...are completely sure of this? Just the fact that you have chosen to stay with me is...more than I could have hoped for." His voice shook as he dared to look into her eyes again. "I shall not...ask more of you."

"I am sure." She gazed up at him, waiting for him to come to her for the first time. Slowly he leaned in to meet her lips softly. She was slightly surprised by the cold porcelain but knew that for now it would have to do. Raising her arms around his thin shoulders, she drew him into her and deepened it. He placed a hand into her curls and titled her head back, allowing his desire for her to course through him again.

Running her hands through his dark hair, she continued to kiss along his covered face. He remained still for a moment and closed his eyes, continuing to hold her close to him. A warmth radiated from her body even in the cold cellars, and her hair smelled of roses. It was pure bliss, and the only thing that brought it to a halt was when he felt her hands gliding dangerously close to his mask. Leaning away from her, he grabbed her hand. "Please Erik," she said softly. "It does not matter. I have kissed you without it before." He continued to grip her hand.

"Yes. It was quite dark at the time, though. And... I would appreciate you not making a habit of removing it. Let me have one day without thinking of the monstrosity."

A saddened look crossed her brown eyes. "I will not ever leave, Erik. I love you. Do you believe me?"

"Let me have today without thinking of it," he stated firmly, turning from her. Reluctantly, she kept her hands away from the white object and continued to kiss him as best she could. Finally she came to his mouth and drew him toward her again. He returned it gratefully, relaxing his muscles after the dispute. Finally, she lay her head on his shoulder for breath and felt him run his hands through her curls. "Christine...you are amazing," she heard him whisper, as his long arms embraced her body.

"But there is still so much more ahead," she whispered somewhat seductively. She blushed at her own forwardness and peaked up at him to see his reaction. A look of confusion, followed by disbelief, then fright, and finally wonder crossed his face.

"You know not what you ask, child," he said with a hint of both hope and sadness. Christine did not respond, just gripping onto him more tightly in affirmation.

Erik took a deep breath and quickly got up, making sure he did not injure her leg in the process. With slight hurt, she watched him start to walk stiffly away from her, shoulders straight and arms at his sides. He paused, though, and turned around to face her. "There...is another matter to be soon attended to." Though his voice was calm, his golden eyes held a certain amount of fear.

She followed his gaze to the chamber that held the waxen doll.


	15. Chapter 15

**Thank you guys for the reviews! Well, this next chapter is half fluff and half drama. At the end of the chapter you may think that I've made things too easy for E/C, but there is still quite a bit to go before we reach the end of this story. More drama ensues.**

**Secondly, Erik is going to be fairly, eh, nice in this chapter. I promise that you'll see his darker side again before the story is over...probably more than one time. Anyhow, read and review!**

Quickly Erik shifted his gaze away from the covered chamber, as if ashamed the life size figurine even existed. It had always been a distant dream to have Christine in every sense of the word. Even after she told him that she wished to be with him...that she saw him as more than a monster, he convinced himself that she just wanted his companionship. And yet she had just implied that she desired something he himself had never even known and had never expected to experience. No one wanted such things from a gargoyle. Those feelings were either quelled completely or forced into the angry chords of his music.

Of course, he could not expect her to do the same for her entire life. It would be like keeping her in an emotional prison, devoid of intimacy. "Erik?" her little voice rang out behind him, waiting for him to tell her what he had started to say.

"Christine...I do not want to bring shame upon you by our living conditions."

"You shall not bring shame upon me, Erik. It is not as if anyone will even know who we are. Where else would I go?"

"What I mean to say is that...perhaps it would be easier if...we...became legally..." he sighed and turned away from her in frustration. Certainly the Vicomte had never had this problem. He could just picture the damned boy gracefully getting down onto one knee and proposing to her with that accursed ring. Christine's face would no doubt light up with a big smile and a rosy blush as she accepted it onto her finger. Of course, the Vicomte would then swiftly rise up from the ground and delicately brush her lips with his own.

To his surprise, he felt a hand clutch onto his narrow shoulder. Whirling around, Erik saw that she had managed to hop on one foot from her place on the divan to where he now stood. His sudden movement almost caused her to lose her balance, but he grabbed her by the arms before she hit the cavern ground. "What do you think you are doing, Christine? Do you wish to break your ankle for a third time?"

She gripped onto him tightly. "Erik...what is it that you wish to ask me?" she asked softly. He froze beneath her and met her eyes with his golden ones.

"I wish to ask you to join me as my wife. You do not have to answer now."

"But I want to answer now. Of course I shall be your wife." It was said without any hesitation or doubt, and he could only stare at her as she leaned in to kiss him again. A warm euphoria raced through his icy body as he wrapped his long arms around her tiny shoulders and returned her kiss. After a moment, she drew back quickly, and he looked at her in surprise, his lips still tingling.

"What is wrong?" he asked, his insecurities creeping up on him again.

"Erik...it is so horribly uncomfortable kissing you with that thing on," she complained, gesturing toward the mask with her hand. "Do you really think I would leave after everything...just because of your face? Do you think that little of me?"

He turned from her, a coldness returning to his eyes. "Worse has happened because of the sight of it. It is in everyone's best interest if you do not bring it up again." Reluctantly, she heeded the warning and kept her hand at a distance from the porcelain piece. Seeing the dismay enter her eyes, he softened his expression and scooped her into his arms.

"Where are you going?" she asked, her face brightening up again. He didn't answer but carried her up to his organ and sat her carefully down on the side of the bench. Once settled in front of it, Erik positioned his slender fingers over the keys. For the first time in many months, she heard his mesmerizing voice reverberate off of the catacomb walls.

_You have come here, in pursuit of your deepest urge_...

Wrapping herself in the entrancing words, she allowed herself to be swept away by the haunting duet that was meant solely for her. When Christine's turn came, she automatically began her part. Even after all of the weeks since rehearsals, she had not forgotten the sensual words. They came naturally to her, and their voices blended in a perfect harmony of passion. Their hearts raced throughout the piece as one...just as he had intended.

Yet...both subconsciously noticed that something was absent from the song. There was love and desire...but the subtle darkness that had been written into the melody had not sustained. The duet would never sound as he had meant it to...not unless he once again experienced the emotions he had felt while composing it. God forbid he ever experience that desperate misery again.

_We've passed the point of no return_

"What happens next?" Christine asked, trying to catch her breath as she sat beside him. He turned to look at her.

"As I told you before...it would have depended on you." She turned and met his lips.

* * *

The Vicomte had just begun his ascent of the left stairwell of the Ames manor, the soles of his shoes echoing emptily against the marble steps. No one else seemed to be around, and he could not help but have the unpleasant feeling that something was amiss. As he was about at the top, Raoul encountered one of the maids making her way downstairs with a handful of laundry. Her aging eyes widened slightly when she saw him. "Oh my," she said softly. 

"Hello Madame," said the Vicomte, eyeing her curiously. "Is something wrong?"

The woman bit her lip and hesitated before speaking. "Please Monsieur. Allow me to get the Master."

"That will not be necessary," replied Raoul quickly. "I have just come to see Christine. I do not need to bother Laurent." The maid said nothing but shook her head and rushed down the stairs. The Vicomte watched her depart momentarily before beginning his way back up again with a shrug. Within seconds, though, he heard the soft click of heels behind him and turned to see Monsieur Ames standing on one of the lower steps. An odd expression sat upon his friend's face.

"Laurent.." began Raoul, apologetically. "I did not mean for her to bother you. I am back and have just come to see Christine." Laurent Ames shifted nervously and averted his eyes.

"Raoul...I am afraid that there was a bit of an incident while you were gone."

"Incident? What are you talking about?" The Vicomte slowly began making his way back down the steps, his mouth twisted in concern. Laurent tugged nervously at the collar of his shirt.

"About a week ago, I am afraid that Christine...well, cuckolded you, old friend. One night, a man came in and literally carried her off. I did try to shoot the bastard for trespassing...but damned if he was not fast." Monsieur Ames chuckled nervously as the Vicomte's face contorted in anger and worry.

"What the hell are you talking about? Christine...has been kidnapped? Have you not called the police?"

"Monsieur, it was not a kidnapping. Your little doll did not scream out for help once. She was gripping on tightly to him and telling the fellow to hurry. Furthermore, I am not getting myself involved with the police. After my little business scheme last year, I should not even be back in France!" Raoul approached him, disbelief and rage twisting his normally smooth features.

"I trusted you to look after her, and you do not even call the police! How dare you..."

"Do not get angry at me, old friend," Laurent interrupted. "I am not getting myself arrested just because your fiancée is a whore..." He did not get any farther. The Vicomte laid a rough blow across his face, sending Laurent reeling backward and into the wall.

Raoul approached him. "Listen, damn it! Tell me now what this man looked like, or I shall take you to the police myself." Clutching his cheek, Laurent glared up at him but gave in.

"I could not _tell_ what he looked like. It was dark...plus he had a white mask over part of his face. Listen Raoul...just forget about her. She is a chorus girl, for God's sake."

Slowly the Vicomte backed up, shaking his head. "You do not understand, Laurent. You have all but placed her into the hands of a monster." Turning around quickly, Raoul rushed out of the manor, slamming the door shut behind him. Laurent shook his head in disgust and went to find some ice and a mirror. Now he had a purple bruise forming on his cheek to match the dark blue ones that graced his neck.

* * *

As the sun began to set beneath the horizon, Private Inspector Darley shuffled the last of his papers and prepared to go home for the evening. He heard three of his men laughing with each other in the back room and smiled to himself. They were no doubt content over their most recent exploitation. 

Just as he started to go back to tell them it was time to close up, he heard three loud knocks upon the door. Quickly he ran to the window and peaked out, his heart skipping a beat as he saw that it was the Vicomte who stood upon his doorstep. By the young man's expression, he knew that there would be trouble tonight. Cursing to himself, he opened the door. "Monsieur de Chagny!" he exclaimed with a false smile. "How may I help you?"

The Vicomte just stared back angrily. "Do not play games with me tonight, Monsieur. I have come to tell you that I do not think that your corpse was the man I was looking for. My fiancee has been kidnapped and before I go to the police and have you arrested, I have some questions."

The private inspector's eyes widened, and he closed the door slightly. "Do you have proof of what you say, Monsieur? How do you know that it was your _Phantom_ that did it? Do not lay blame so quickly." By that time, the other three men in the office had come out of the back room. With one hand behind him, Monsieur Darley motioned for them to remain where they were.

The Vicomte grabbed the knob to keep the door open. "Monsieur, my fiancee is in danger as we speak! Tell me now! Was everything that you told me that day true? You caught a masked man near the opera house?"

The private inspector could not stop the small smile from crossing his face. "You are the one who identified him, Monsieur le Vicomte. Why don't you tell me?" By the devious look in the private inspector's eyes, Raoul now knew the entire thing had been a ploy. The Phantom was quite alive...and he very likely had Christine.

"You have robbed me, Monsieur!" he yelled furiously. "Right after I tell the police of my missing fiancee, I shall tell them of your little exploit! You shall be behind bars before soon."

"What shall you tell them, Monsieur? That you paid me to commit murder, and I did not succeed? I am sure that they will love to hear that."

The Vicomte was silent for a moment, knowing inside that he should just walk away and leave the heated situation. He was so furious now, though, that he continued the dialogue. "I have connections within the law," he said quietly. "No one has died, and the man that I am seeking is possibly wanted for murder and kidnapping. It will be you, Monsieur, who faces punishment."

As the Vicomte stalked away, the private inspector pondered his last words. They were likely true. The damned aristocrats could get away with about anything from what he had seen. He would likely be in jail within twenty-four hours, and all of his dubious activities would soon be discovered. The Vicomte posed quite a problem for him.

Quietly, the private inspector turned to the three men behind him and held open the door widely. "See that the Vicomte does not get far."


	16. Chapter 16

Final preparations had been completed. All desired belongings had been carefully packed into the covered carriage, and only the largest pieces of furniture remained in the underground abode. Of course, the organ could not be taken as it was firmly sealed to the ground, but both decided that the purchase of a piano would be an action taken in the near future.

As they stepped into the boat for what they thought would be the final time, Erik looked back at the little house for a second. For so long it had been his home...the only place where he was able to stay concealed from the rest of the word. He had built it as the location where he planned to live and die in solitude. When he saw Christine staring up at him expectantly, though, it was much easier to leave it.

Before they left, Christine had quickly written a note to Madame Giry, detailing the events of the last week and giving her the address of their new home. She hoped the elderly woman would remain discreet, as she was their only trusted contact at the moment. Without her, they would not know how extensive the search for Christine became. At the end of the letter, Christine wrote that "O.G." gave her his gratitude for her service over the years. When Madame Giry found the letter in its usual spot, she could not help but smile. Perhaps happy endings were possible.

The couple left within the darkness of the night, carefully avoiding the main roads of the city. Erik kept an eye out for unwanted visitors, but no one paid the carriage any attention whatsoever. It was as if they did not even exist.

Christine wrapped her wool shawl tightly around her shoulders for warmth as they moved forward. Though spring had finally come, the night air was still cold and somewhat damp. A light breeze blew her curls out around her face, tickling her cheek and making her shiver. She also felt an eerie chill spread through her bones, one of those that makes one cringe in an unpleasant anticipation. Erik sensed her discomfort and placed an arm around her tiny shoulders. Christine leaned against him.

Looking at her surroundings, Christine realized just how little she had been outside over the past few months, from the hospital to the manor to Erik's lair. No wonder she felt nervous, for she had likely developed a slight agoraphobia. Soon, though, the cast would come off, and she would be able to rejoin life again...hopefully peacefully and without the fear of before. Indeed it was difficult to believe that only several months ago, she had been desperately trying to escape the man she now leaned against for comfort.

The drive had been going very smoothly. Few other carriages or people were out that night. It was dark enough to provide a shadow of concealment, yet there was just enough light from the scattered buildings so that the journey was not hazardous.

It was about an hour into the ride, though, when they came upon an array of moving figures scattered around an alleyway. The mumble of voices could be heard, but it was impossible to make out what they were discussing. They seemed to be milling about an object on the ground, holding up lanterns as if trying to examine something. Erik raised his head to discern what was going on, and Christine gazed up nervously. "Perhaps we should turn around," she said quietly.

"There is no other route unless we leave the city all together. I doubt that the commotion concerns us anyhow." He continued forward, checking to make sure the lasso was nearby in case there was indeed trouble. As they came closer, they could see that most of the men were dressed in police garb. All were armed with rifles, but none seemed to think it was necessary to have them ready to fire. Though the officers appeared slightly alarmed by something, danger did not appear to be imminent.

Some of the men stepped away from whatever was on the ground, and Christine tried to make out the large object in the dim lantern light. Another carriage had approached from the opposite direction...this one marked with what appeared to be the symbol for the hospital. The occupants got out and made their way to where the police were gathered. "Someone has been hurt," she said softly.

"If that is all that has occurred, it will pose us no problem."

Now she was close enough to tell that the object on the ground was the silhouette of a man. Gripping tightly onto the side of the wagon, she squinted down, her heart suddenly racing. Even from a distance, she could make out a large bruise on the man's head and see his blonde hair flared about the ground. Christine was standing on one foot now within the carriage, trying to steady herself as she looked. "What are you doing?" asked Erik with irritation, attempting to bring her back to a seated position. "Sit down!"

But Christine could clearly make out the face now...the narrow jaw line and smooth features. Though the man's eyes were closed, she now knew that they would be blue if he opened them. "Oh God," she hoarsely whispered. "It is Raoul." Erik tensed next to her. "Erik...he...he is badly injured. I cannot...oh lord..."

"Christine, sit down," he said through gritted teeth. "We do not want him to see us."

"But...he looks...this is partially my fault. Erik, I cannot just leave him wondering about me in that condition. Oh...what if he dies because of me?"

"No, Christine!" Erik exclaimed harshly. " If he sees you, it will destroy everything. For all he knows, we are out of the country." He hurried the horses forward at a faster pace, his yellow eyes flashing in rage.

"Erik, stop it!" she yelled slightly louder than she meant to, drawing the attention of the gathered crowd. Erik stared at her in enraged shock. Christine placed a hand over her mouth and paled as a policeman approached them.

"Can I help you?" asked the officer sternly. "This is really not a good place for you to stop. Unless you have business here, please move on ahead." Erik did not say anything...he did not move...he just faced forward. Christine gazed at the policeman, then she looked toward Erik's stoic face, and then she turned back to the unconscious figure of her former fiancé.

Of course she loved Erik with all of her heart and soul. Frankly, she wanted nothing more than to disappear with him into the night without guilt or hesitation. But her childhood friend, who had protected her so vigorously these last few months, now lay bleeding upon the ground. Raoul no doubt believed something terrible had happened to her. And...if he survived whatever had occurred, he would always continue to search for her.

She could not just run away...not again. Raoul deserved an explanation...if not the entire truth then at least a part of it, especially now that he had almost likely died for her. Christine prayed that Erik would understand as she turned back to the policeman. "I...I know the man who is injured."

The policeman nodded. "Well, many people know of him. He is the Vicomte de Chagny. Do you have closer relations?"

"Yes," she softly replied. "He is a close friend of mine."

"Well, then, Mademoiselle. You may visit him at the nearest hospital, about two miles east of here."

"All right," she replied softly. "I shall come back tomorrow."

"No!" said Erik coldly, as the policeman started to turn away. The officer looked up in surprise to see the mysterious cloaked man speak. "That man is her fiancé. You should take her to him immediately."

"What are you doing?" Christine whispered frantically, whipping around to face him. His golden eyes glared down at her, and his mouth was fixed in an expression of pain and fury.

"Do you think I am going to just sit in our home as you leave each day to visit him? Do you think I am going to patiently wait for you to return each night until one day you decide not to? Or he decides to lead the police to us? Do you think that I am that stupid, Christine? Either you leave with me now and the boy is forgotten, or you go to him, and I shall return to the only place that is truly mine alone."

"That is not fair!" she exclaimed. "I just have to tell him, Erik! Look at him! He is nearly dead! It is not fair to leave him like this, and perhaps he will not bother us anymore once he knows." The policeman approached again.

"Mademoiselle? Are you the young man's fiancee?" She placed her head into her hands, nearly ready to cry.

"Erik," she whispered. "Let's just go." He did not move, though...continuing to stare down at her.

"Do you promise that you will not try to see him, Christine? That you will not spend countless hours thinking about him?"

"I...I..."

"Mademoiselle?" She stared at the two men in front of her as she tried to make her decision. Either she go with Erik's full love and protection...always with the guilt of her actions and the worry that Raoul would find them. Or... she make her amends...find the closure that was needed and pray to God that she would find Erik when it was over. Why did Erik have to be so horrible about it? Because she had been so fickle in the past...had twisted his heart far too many times. She bit her lip, tasting blood.

"I...am the Vicomte's fiancee," she said softly. The look that passed over Erik's eyes at that moment was almost too much for her to bear. And as the policeman helped her over to the mass of people and carriages, tears streamed rapidly down her soft cheeks. Quickly she turned around to give Erik some sign of assurance that she would soon find him, but he was already gone. "What have I done?" she wondered in horror.

Mindlessly, she sat down next to Raoul, who had now been lifted into the wagon. He was still unconscious, but it was too dark to tell how much damage had been done. She sobbed into her hands as they moved forward. A hand came upon her shoulder.

"Do not worry, Mademoiselle," said one of the nurses. "Your fiancé will hopefully be fine."

"I am not so sure that he will," she replied, through tears.

* * *

By some odd coincidence, the hospital that the carriage arrived at was the same one that she had gone to on that fateful day. Doctor Murrell was not there at such a late hour, but several nurses remained stationed around. She greeted them, and they wholeheartedly expressed their regrets. 

Because spring had finally arrived, the number of illnesses had decreased greatly and many hospital beds were available. Christine was allowed to stay in one for the night, mostly because of the fact that she was due to have her bandage removed soon anyway. The nurses would then help her to regain use of her slightly atrophied foot. If her heart had not been breaking that night, she would have found the situation to be blissfully convenient. All she wanted to do was cry, though.

After she had settled in her own room, she knew that it was time to grow up and begin making amends. A nurse helped her down the corridor to where her childhood friend lay. Her heart pounded, afraid of what she would find now that there was light. With a deep intake of breath, she slowly opened the door of the room and looked inside. The sight made her raise her hand to her mouth, and she let out a slight gasp.

A white bandage covered his blonde head and one arm was set in a cast. Purple and blue bruises blotched his face here and there, and more were likely covered under his clothes and the hospital blankets. Though the nurses had cleaned up some of the blood, traces of it still dotted his skin. A grimace of pain seemed to stay fixed upon his lips.

It was then that Christine realized that no matter what decisions she made, someone would always end up hurt. Whether she had chosen to perform at _Don Juan Triumphant _or not...someone would have been destroyed in the end. There was no escaping the pain, and now...two people were hurt because of her. Christine felt the need to scream...to pound the walls in frustration until there was nothing left. All she could do, though, was hobble over to a chair next to the bed and place her head into her hands.

"Christine?" she heard a faint, groggy voice ask. She looked up. "Oh God. You are...you are safe. Oh God. I thought..."

"Shhhh..." she said softly. "Yes. I am just fine, Raoul. But you...what has happened to you?"

He managed to shake his head slightly. "I have made...many mistakes these last few days. But...it does not matter." He paused. "I...I thought he had taken you. Where...where did you go?" He reached for her, and she calmly took his hand in a comforting gesture.

"I...it is quite complicated." How could she tell him everything now? He was barely alive. He wouldn't even understand her.

"Complicated? Yes, I guess everything has been complicated, hasn't it? It does not matter, though. We shall...leave this wretched city for good. We shall go to England."

"Oh, Raoul," she said softly. "I...go to sleep now."

"Tomorrow, then?" he asked, beginning to fade off again.

"Tomorrow."


	17. Chapter 17

**Hello my beloved readers! Thank you so much for all of your reviews...even if over half of them were threats to poor, unhappy Christine. I did get lots of sympathy for Erik. No sympathy for Raoul who was half dead, though... Oh well. I tried. **

**This chapter isn't the most fun to read, but it was necessary. It sets things up nicely for later on. As far as Erik goes...well...he isn't in it. Sorry. Please read and review anyway, though! Reviews make me write faster! And the next two chapters... jump jolly high! (I'm hyper this evening. Too much Easter candy)**

Christine could only stand by and wearily watch as the Vicomte de Chagny drifted in and out of consciousness over the next week. The wound to his head was severe, likely caused by a heavy, metal object, but Doctor Murrell gave him a very good chance of surviving it. Though his arm was slightly fractured, the rest of the injuries were primarily small scrapes and bruises. All in all, the recovery would simply take time...time that happened to be very precious to a worried Christine.

It certainly did not help matters that the sweet sound of her voice was often what awoke Raoul in those first few days at the hospital. When she would come into the room and speak softly with one of the nurses, his blue eyes would open, and he would call out to her longingly from the bed. Guilt enveloped her soul, and she would always feign a smile and hold his hand as he talked of their future life out of Paris together.

Another hamper to Christine's attempt to tell her childhood sweetheart of her unfaithfulness was the endless stream of visitors that constantly poured into the room. His close friends and business partners constantly attempted to pay visit, staying for hours and talking about things of no importance. All of his siblings came to see him often, and she made it a point to stay out of their way. Though they were fairly polite to her face, she could tell by their expressions that they were not pleased with their brother's choice of bride. _Well...they would not have to worry much longer..._

A week after her stay, Doctor Murrell finally made the decision to have her casting removed. Really it was the best news that she had heard in quite some time. As much as she desired to get to Erik, the task was more or less impossible when she could not even walk...not unless she wanted to crawl her way through the dank cellars. She knew without a doubt that he had returned to the dark catacombs. He would not go to the house without her.

Laying quietly on the cool sheets of the bed, she waited as the nurses prepared to unwrap her foot. She remembered the time when she had first had the casting put on. Had so many weeks passed since that odd day? Since she had made the decision to flee from the opera house and then broken her foot on the ice? Since she had the epiphany that changed every aspect of her life? At that time, she had been so set on marrying Raoul and finding normalcy. Now, she thought of nothing but Erik and of trying to get back to him...and of hoping he would understand her recent actions.

She did not regret her decision to go with Raoul that night. No one deserved to be so cruelly abandoned on the brink of death, especially someone who had tried to do so much for her. Christine had no doubt that he would have died for her if the time ever called for it. Secondly, it was not fair to her and Erik to spend their lives with the worry that Raoul would one day bring the police to them. Really...she should have told her friend from the beginning that she no longer wished to marry him. Running away from Raoul had not been the answer. Yet she somehow doubted that Erik had been given enough compassion in his life to understand her decision. She could only pray that he would.

There was almost no discomfort as they carefully unwrapped her foot. As they took the final bandages off, she felt an unfamiliar rush of cold air touch her skin. She stared down at her foot in disdain, seeing that it had become purple and wrinkly after being covered for so long. Gingerly she moved her leg.

"You shall have to grow accustomed to walking on it again," said the doctor kindly. "Within a couple of weeks, though, you should be back to normal. I shall give you crutches to help." She nodded her gratitude, determined to be back on her feet as soon as possible. As she propped herself upward on the crutches for the first time, she felt slightly more in control of her life. If only she could finally tell Raoul what she needed to say.

Several days later, as she was slowly making her way to the Vicomte's room, she was startled to see two uniformed policemen exit. They nodded to her as they made their way down the corridor before going back to comparing the notes that they had scribbled down. With concern, she opened the door and made her way into the room. Raoul was sitting up in the bed, looking tired but in better health than he had been in for quite some time. Much of the color had returned to his face.

"Good morning," she said softly as she came in. Christine hesitated a moment. "What...what was that about?" He looked uncomfortable.

"I...was just giving them a description of the men who...did this. They should be apprehended soon, as I was able to tell the police of the exact location where they work. I suppose that the crooks thought that they had done away with me." Christine gave him a confused look, and he softly patted the chair next to the bed for her to come sit down.

With a sigh, she came to the bedside and sat. "Raoul...what on earth did you do to yourself? Please just tell me." He averted his blue eyes from her brown ones.

"I was so afraid for us, Christine. That madman had been tormenting us for so long that I was worried for my life and for your safety. I guess...I was desperate."

"What? What did you do?"

"The police were not helping, and I...was desperate to have the monster gone. I am afraid I got involved with some men who did not have our best interests at heart, to say the least. They told me that they had...ridden us of him." She stared at him curiously for a moment, slowly piecing together the many events of the last weeks in her mind. Erik's words came back to her. He had called his _death_ a convenient accident.

"Oh Raoul! You tried to have him killed? And those men...they tricked you somehow, didn't they?" He looked up at her startled.

"Yes..." he said quietly. "How did you know?"

"I...oh it does not matter. But Raoul! Why would you do something like that? It is murder! And it is dangerous..." She stared at him wide-eyed before placing her head into her hands in frustration. It was really a miracle that anyone had survived the last several weeks. Thank God the men that he had hired had not been honest in their work.

Raoul laid his head back down on the pillow in defeat. "I know, Christine. It was foolish, and then when I saw that you were gone... I just...I wish..."

"Hush. Never mind. It is over, and you are alive, thank God."

"And you are safe, Christine. We shall not deal with the damned Phantom and the criminals that run this city any longer. We shall get out of Paris and not return for a very long time." He grabbed her hand at that moment, and she could only look at him tiredly. After a moment, his eyes started to close, and he drifted off to sleep again. She knew that the time had finally come to tell him. That night, she would say goodbye.

During the rest of the morning and the afternoon, Christine carefully planned her words to Raoul. She wanted to let him know that there was indeed someone else in her life. At the same time, she did not want to explain to him exactly who Erik was. There was no way that he would understand if she told him she was deeply in love with the Phantom...or as Raoul liked to refer to him..._the monster_..._the madman_. No. It was best to say her goodbyes and leave her old friend with no worries.

That night, with her heart pounding rapidly, Christine made her way down the long corridor slowly. To the doctor's surprise she had quickly regained the use of her foot, doing the strength exercises he had shown her as frequently as possible. Though she still moved very slowly, she had only needed the crutches for a few days. She was finally standing on her own two feet...in perhaps more ways than one.

As she turned the silver knob to enter Raoul's room, she ran through the things she planned to say in her head one last time. Cautiously she opened the door and peaked in. Suddenly, though, her mind went completely blank, and she let in a sharp intake of air. Raoul had a visitor. With a slight glare, Christine continued to walk in, avoiding the gaze of the young man who stood next to the side of the Vicomte's bed.

"Mademoiselle Daae!" exclaimed Monsieur Ames with a small smile. "So nice to see you again."

* * *

Richard Firmin set down the ink pen on the mahogany desk with a contented sigh and stretched his arms over his head. He glanced down at the ledger with great satisfaction, adding up the numbers in his head one last time. This last month had definitely been the easiest one he had experienced since the purchase of the Opera Populaire. Sales on _Faust_ had certainly been doing better than expected...almost as well as _Il Muto _had done...and this time there was no scandal involved. There had not been one catastrophe...not even the tiniest mishap in the last few weeks. 

Picking up the leather folder that contained the sales data, he opened a desk drawer and set it carefully inside. As he started to scoot his chair back to go home for the evening, he noticed something eerily familiar laying upon the desk top, earlier concealed by the folder. There sat a harmless yet ominous folded white piece of paper.

With his hands shaking slightly and his face paling, he slowly opened the note. Firmin gasped slightly as he saw the red ink, and his eyes quickly ran down to the letter's signature. Pulling back the chair so quickly that it almost fell over, the manager rushed out of his office and into the hallway. He started to go right but quickly turned left, nearly knocking down Andre in the process. "What on earth is the matter?" asked Andre, seeing the distraught look on his partner's face.

"He...is back," Firmin stuttered out.

"Who is back?"

"O.G." replied Firmin, shakily handing his partner the note. "He...he is not dead!"

"Impossible!" Andre's eyes widened in disbelief. "No one has heard from him for months. And the body...Are you sure that this is not someone's idea of a prank?"

"See for yourself!" Slowly Andre opened the note and quickly scanned through it. Indeed, it contained a demand for a salary and the use of box five. No mention was made of the operas themselves such as references to casting or musical critiques. Still, though, it was alarming, for the messy red handwriting was much too similar to have been forged.

"Good Lord..." said Andre softly, shaking his head. "Should we call the police?"

"No. Let us keep this quiet for now. As long as no one is injured...I do not want to start another mess of rumors and scandals. If we bring the police out here and O.G. is not found, the fines we face are going to be greater than this damn salary demand." He sighed. "And everything was going so well..."

The two men stood there in silence for a moment...casting quick glances around for any signs of their now undead ghost.

Antoinette Giry shook her head in confusion and sadness from somewhere in the distance.


	18. Chapter 18

**Thank you guys for the wonderful reviews.**

**I had a couple of comments on M. Giry's first name. Truthfully, I am not sure which story version that came from. I did not make it up, but I can't tell you where it came from. Unless, someone has a huge problem with it, I'm just going to leave it.**

**There is kind of a nasty cliffie at the end of this chapter. Sorry :(**

Keeping her eyes upon the wooden floor of the hospital, Christine coldly muttered an indiscernible greeting to Monsieur Ames and positioned herself away from him. He continued to stare at her, almost seeming to take pleasure in her discomfort.

"I see you are back on your feet now, Mademoiselle. No one shall have to carry you anymore."

Instinctively she looked up and scowled at the wretched man, trying to think of a subtle insult that would not upset her former fiance. She wondered briefly what Monsieur Ames had told Raoul about her disappearance that night. The Vicomte sensed a tension between the two and was curious as to why there was such unusual hostility in his fiancee's eyes.

"Perhaps you should leave the two of us alone for a moment, Laurent," he said, not taking his gaze off Christine.

"Of course. I shall wait in the hall." Laurent nodded his head once at her as he left, and she turned away from him. After he was gone, she briskly went and sat down at the end of the bed.

"What was he doing here?" she asked quietly, attempting to not sound angry. She was in no mood to explain to Raoul the details of Laurent's little nightly visit.

Raoul sighed. "Let us just say we had quite a dispute several weeks ago about your disappearance. He has...apologized, though. I have to say I am not quite even sure what occurred that night." He paused, hoping she would give him some more information on the subject. When Christine said nothing, he continued. "Anyhow, the matter is over, though I shall not be asking any more favors of him. He has given me some details about life in England, though. Should we decide to move there, Laurent could be of use."

"That is...good," she said softly. Christine attempted to brush her ire from her mind and focus on her original purpose for being there. She took a deep breath and began her confession. It was time for the cruel game to end before she hurt anyone else even more. "Raoul..."

"What is it, Christine?" he asked, unnerved by the strange look in her large brown eyes.

"I need to tell you something." She paused momentarily. "I am afraid that I...do not wish to get married anymore." His blue eyes widened, and he sat up in the bed quickly, nearly making himself dizzy. Christine looked up with concern, hoping he would not physically hurt himself.

"What? Why not?" he asked sharply.

She chewed on her lip and looked down again. "It is difficult to explain...but I have met someone else. Someone...whom I have grown very close to and wish to spend the rest of my life with. You could say that we were simply meant to be together." The Vicomte shook his head in disbelief.

"But how can that be? You have not even been around anyone these last few weeks! Who is he? I...I cannot believe this!" There was an expression of pain upon his face, and she could not help but feel horrible guilt.

"His name is Erik, and I met him while I was performing at the opera house. He is...a musician among other things. In fact, our love of music is what brought us together." Christine had practiced many ways of portraying her lover as normally as possible. Raoul just continued to stare at her in shock.

"Do I even know him?" She hesitated.

"You have...seen him from a distance, I suppose. He tends to keep to himself, though. I...I am sorry Raoul."

"I cannot believe this, Christine. After everything...It does not make any sense."

"I know, Raoul," she said with a soft sigh. " And...I am sorry. I should have told you sooner, I suppose. Please understand. Forget me and find someone who is deserving of you...that will make you happy." He did not respond for a long time, and they sat there in an uncomfortable silence. Finally, he spoke.

"I do not understand it, but I will not try to stop you, Christine. But...what of the Phantom? Are you...safe from him? Surely he will continue to search for you...threaten this other man that you are with as he did me." Had the situation not been so heartbreakingly serious, she would have burst into hysterical laughter. Instead, her face flushed bright red, and she turned away from him.

"Raoul...the Phantom is dead," she said simply after a moment. He started to protest, but she interrupted him. "Let us not talk of it anymore. I...I am leaving here tomorrow night." He just stared at the wall silently. Sighing, she got up and kissed him lightly on the corner of his mouth. "Goodbye Raoul. I hope that you heal soon and are able to get on with your life. And...I really am grateful for all that you have done for me. You truly have been wonderful." With one last look at him, she slowly made her way out of the room.

The Vicomte stared after her for a moment, both extremely hurt and puzzled. Something was not quite right. How could she have not once mentioned this Erik in all of these months? How could she dismiss the Phantom as dead so easily when she now knew that his demise had been nothing but a hoax? And...where had she disappeared to that one week?

Withing a minute of her departure...Laurent Ames strode back into the room. For a moment, Raoul did not even look up at him, still continuing to stare straight ahead.

"What happened?" his friend asked, trying to hide the amusement in his voice as he looked upon the Vicomte's distraught expression.

"Laurent..." he slowly began. "Are you sure the man that took Christine that night was wearing a white mask...over half of his face? You are positive of this?"

"One hundred percent sure. Why do you ask?" Raoul looked at him then, not really trusting the man but also not seeing any other options. If Christine had truly found someone that she loved and was safe, he would let her go. But...something told him that the Phantom still lurked in the shadows of their lives. Before he left his sweetheart's life for good, he had to be sure that she truly was safe.

"I have one last favor to ask of you, Laurent...and I will pay you for it if you wish. Tomorrow night, I want you to follow Christine out of the hospital and tell me where she goes. Do not...do anything or hurt anyone. Do not even make yourself noticed. Just come back and tell me where she has gone."

"She has left you, hasn't she? I told you..." he began snidely before Raoul interrupted him.

"Please. I am in no need of your lectures. Will you help me or not?" Monsieur Ames sighed.

"Fine. I shall follow the girl. It may be fun, I suppose. I will, however, take you up on your offer of compensation for the task. Roaming the streets at night is not something I am fond of doing."

"Of course. Thank you," the Vicomte replied quietly. As soon as Monsieur Ames had left, he settled into a troubling sleep.

* * *

With her hands shaking slightly and goose bumps lining her cold arms, Christine stared up at the looming Paris Opera House. Her heart beat rapidly and her breath was quick as she carefully made her way up the steps. In the darkness of the evening, all of the various statues that lined the building seemed more threatening than usual, their eyes appearing to watch her ever move. The dim light of the city cast eerie shadows around her, causing her to jump every so often. Why on earth was she so nervous? What was there to be afraid of? Perhaps she was simply tired from the stress of the last few days.

At six thirty that evening, one day after she had broken her engagement with Raoul, Christine had said farewell to a confused Doctor Murrell and left the hospital by cab. She had wanted it to be fairly late when she arrived so that most of the workers would have already left the opera house, but she also wished for Madame Giry to still be there. As ballet practice ended at eight, she would be given just enough time to find the older woman.

With a startling creak, she opened the large, wooden door of the building and made her way inside. She was grateful to see that the entryway was brightly lit and that several maids still lingered about, tidying up after the day. Her footsteps echoing emptily against the floor, Christine quickly made her way back to the dressing rooms where Madame Giry would surely be with the younger dancers. With relief, she looked down a corridor and saw the ballet instructor sternly lecturing several of the girls in a corner. "Madame Giry," she softly called, not wanting to be rude but also in a hurry. "Madame Giry!"

She whirled around and the dancers looked up. "Christine!" she exclaimed, her wrinkled eyes widening. Though the other girls came forward to talk to their old friend, Madame Giry firmly motioned for them to stay put. Quickly she came and lead Christine to where they could talk privately. "Child, what has happened?"

"Oh Madame! It has been terrible! Raoul was horribly injured...and I just had to return to him for a while. I am afraid that in the process, Erik was upset by my decision. And now...I do not even know for sure where he is." She embraced the older woman tightly, grateful to have some form of comfort. "Have you heard from him?" Madame Giry hesitated.

"There...was a note from the opera ghost, I am afraid. It was given to the managers several days ago."

Christine raised her hand to her mouth. "But...now they will know that he is alive. Why...why would he do that?"

"Child...I imagine that he was quite hurt by whatever happened between you. I also doubt that he has been shown much human kindness in his life. His actions are often rash...and there is a danger within him that you must always be aware of." Christine felt a wave of guilt wash over her. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

"Madame...Raoul told me that you led him into the cellars on the night I disappeared. I...am still not very good at navigating my way around down there. Would you take me as far as you can? Please." The older woman gave her a wary look.

"Are you sure that it is wise to go down there by yourself?" Christine smiled sadly.

"He would never hurt me, Madame. I must see him as soon as possible."

"Very well, Christine," she replied with a sigh. "Let me just get these girls ready to go home."

Madame Giry had no trouble swiftly leading her down the dark passages. With her ankle still fairly weak, though, it was difficult for Christine to keep up. She had an extremely trying time getting down the stairs and was grateful to have Madame Giry to lean against for support. Her heart pounded rapidly as she tried to think of exactly what she would say...how she would explain her decision to Erik. What if he truly hated her now? She couldn't bear to think of it.

As she came down the steps, Christine saw to both her delight and her concern that the familiar boat was calmly floating against the shore. The water of the lake lapped softly against the sides of it. She and Madame Giry stared down at the gondola curiously. "Does that mean...he is not there?" Christine asked quietly.

"I do not know, my dear. It is likely that he has many ways of getting around, though. There are passages everywhere, and it is rumored that he helped to build the opera house."

"Should I use the boat, then?"

"Unless you wish to swim across, you will have to. I am afraid that I must stop here, though. Good luck and please be careful Christine."

"Thank you, Madame," she replied, giving her friend a quick hug. Shakily, she slowly climbed into the boat and took up the oar. It took several tries for her to work it properly, and she found herself going in three different directions at once, bumping into the sides of the shore roughly. Finally, she was able to take some control of the heavy stick and move forward. The water splashed against the sides, occasionally soaking her dress. Her arms quickly grew tired from the rowing motion, and she had to stop every so often for a break. How did Erik do this all of the time?

Finally she came up to the large gate and looked through the bars. To her dismay, the labyrinth seemed darker than she remembered it, many of the candles and lanterns extinguished. She shivered slightly in the coolness of the caverns and tried to remember how Erik had opened the gate the last time. Rowing to her left, Christine bent over and placed her hands deep into the icy water, feeling around. After a few seconds, her numbed fingers came to a small metal gear, and she attempted to twist it with all of her might. It took several attempts, but she was finally able to get it turned. With a loud, grating creak, the portcullis slowly opened.

From the moment she rowed through the gate, Christine wondered if she was going about this in completely the wrong way. It was so dark and, except for the steady drip of water in the distance, it was extremely quiet. She shivered as she stood up and unsteadily made her way upon to the shore. A nervous feeling sat in the pit of her stomach, making her nauseous.

This was not the ethereal labyrinth of her first journey down into the lair, nor was it the sanctuary of her second trek. It was simply a dark house under the earth...completely tangible yet not entirely wholesome. Holding one of the lanterns up, Christine looked around. The light cast unnerving shadows upon the wall, giving the entire cavern an unnatural glow. She saw the organ sitting in its usual place, looming upwards toward the ceiling.

Turning, she saw that the door of the room next to the Louis- Philippe room was firmly shut. Christine had only been in there once when she had first come down. Erik had hesitantly shown it to her, and she had been unnerved by the canopied coffin inside. Quickly, he had shut the door and led her to the more hospitable room that consisted of a soft bed and expensive trinkets.

With a deep intake of breath, she slowly made her way to the closed door, beginning to have second thoughts. Perhaps she should turn around and wait for him to find her. But no...she would get to Erik tonight. Repeatedly she reminded herself that the man who had rescued her lived down here...who had held her...who had tenderly kissed her. Her love lived down here. The dark shadows of the caverns continued to cloud her mind, though.

Holding the lantern with one hand, she opened the door and looked in at the pitch blackness. It was very possible that he was not even in there. Gazing around, she saw nothing but the dreadful coffin and warily entered the room further. Turning the lantern to the right, though, she suddenly heard movement and let out an audible gasp. Her brown eyes stared in shock toward the origin of the sound.

There he stood, unmasked, his right profile the only side bathed in the light of the lantern. He wore no heavy suit jacket...only a white dress shirt and trousers that greatly emphasized his extremely tall, thin frame. His twisted mouth was fixed in a grimace, and his golden eye gleamed angrily from the dark depths of its right socket. The sparse light of the lantern revealed each shadowed crack and crevice along his marred cheek, illuminating further the already yellowed skin. Glancing down, she saw that the deadly lasso was poised in his right hand, eagerly ready to take its next victim. With his left side hidden in the shadows and the lantern casting an eerie light upon his visible side, he looked like someone or something she had never seen in her life.

In sudden recognition of her...Erik quickly dropped the lasso to the ground, his glare turning to a look of surprise. But not before Christine had already jumped back to the doorway and let out a piercing shriek of terror...


	19. Chapter 19

**Hello all! Thanks for the reviews and keep them coming! Some of you are probably wondering about the ending...and I really am striving for a fairly happy one. E/C of course...unless I get a bunch of raging R/C fans coming on. Somehow I don't see that happening.**

**Well...this is kind of an anticipated chapter. Read and Review...even if this site goes down again!**

Utterly miserable did not even begin to describe the last two weeks.

Upon Christine's _untimely_ departure, he had returned to the dark bowels of the opera house without a second thought. Frankly, he would rather have spent an eternity in hell than go and sit in an empty house...pathetically awaiting something that would never come. No. The cellars of the opera house were where he belonged...were where he was meant to die and continue the process of decay.

Did he think she would return? The first night back in the cold caverns, he had actually dared to hope. He had left the boat out, watched the empty circular drive of the Opera Populaire...waiting and willing to forgive. If all she had desired was to say a quick farewell to the damn boy, then she would find a way to return...even with the ankle. Not that he hadn't been furious at her...but he had waited for her in earnest.

Then the wretched days slowly began to pass...one by one...and he began to let her go. Each day killed him a little more, and he had visions of her in bliss with the boy...coddling him as he healed from his wounds...planning their luxurious future together. Once Christine had seen the Vicomte's smooth, princely features...remembered the grand life that she was originally destined for, why would she ever want to come be bride to the human incarnation of death?

For three days, he had just laid there in the coffin...much like the corpse he resembled, cursing her and longing for her simultaneously.

Finally he had risen up from the wooden box and began to restructure his old ruling...still within the intentions of dying soon. He had written the letter to the managers, knowing quite well that, upon seeing it, they would likely alert the authorities. Let them come down and find him, though. He would take pleasure in the battles he won against them...in a sort of game. And if they defeated him and he died...that would be mercy. He had little reason to live.

On the odd chance they did not contact the police, he would take the salary and the box...continuing his wretched existence until some new and blessed ailment came along. At least he would take his power back for the time being.

When he had heard the portcullis open with the familiar creak, he had imagined it to be the gendarmes. Laying in the coffin, he had smiled bitterly to himself. Perhaps this would be entertaining. If there were less than ten men, he would likely be able to handle them. Any more would be difficult, maybe impossible, but worth the challenge. In the shadows of the room, he had stood ready with the lasso, not bothering to put on his mask. The horror of his face could prove to be a valuable distraction to say the least.

Then Christine had entered his little tomb. Ecstacy and hatred had filled him at the sight of her, and he had flung the lasso to the ground before she fell prey to it. But what had come next was even more misery...for he then saw the look on her face.

It was the look that he had never wanted to witness again...especially not from a woman...especially not in her eyes. The look of terror, and repulsion, and disgust. Her fear was evident as she stood in the dimly lit door way, tightly clutching to the lantern within her hand and shaking violently. Perhaps he could have told himself that Christine had only dreaded the lasso, but no... It was his face she was gaping at right now in the dark.

He did not care anymore, though. He had spent the last two weeks in hell...waiting for the police to come down and finish him off. She had left him...let her loathe him.

"Christine?" he rasped in both surprise and anger. "Do you really think it wise to enter someone's home at night uninvited?" He glared down at her and approached her. At hearing his familiar voice, though, much of the terror left her face, and she quickly regained composure.

Her brown eyes widened as his full profile came into the light. There was enormous pain within his eyes. Without the mask and the black dress coat, he looked extremely menacing and extremely vulnerable at the same time. "Erik," she managed to choke out. "I...I am sorry, but I...I..."

"You what, Christine? What is wrong? Oh! You are frightened. Well, by all means let me find my mask, and I shall make the monster go away." He spoke rapidly and sarcastically, making her even more nervous. She prayed that he would listen to her.

"No, Erik. I...you just surprised me in the dark...and then I saw the lasso. Please...I have come back..." She was stuttering like a lunatic and couldn't seem to get out what she wished to say. Truthfully, his face had startled her...with the lantern's glow distorting the right side even more and the other side not being visible. And Erik knew it. The pain was obvious in his expression.

"You have come back from where, dear? From the boy? Did he tire of you so soon? Really, Christine. Stop shaking and say what you wish to say."

"Erik...no. I broke off the engagement with him so that he would not continue to search for us. We will be left in peace now. Please understand! He was terribly injured, and I had to make sure that he would not die. I love you. I wish to be with you...to marry you."

He laughed unpleasantly. "You wish to be with me? For how long? Will you leave at the altar? Or perhaps after the wedding?" He approached her. "How long will it take you to get tired of waking up and looking at _this_ every morning?" he asked, motioning furiously toward his face.

Christine reached out to him compassionately, but he immediately stepped back from her. Her eyes filled with tears. "Erik...I will not leave again. You have to understand that he was my friend, and I cared about him. I did not want him to die! But I love you." She choked out the words as he stared down upon her with anguish and contempt.

"Christine...just get out," he said softly but coldly. "You do not know what you want, _child_. Perhaps you never will. And I am not going to play your games any more...even if it kills me." His heart shattered as he turned away from her, and he hated that he still desired her so much...that he still would have killed to have her in his arms if he thought her words to be true.

"Erik," she sobbed, falling to her knees. "Please..." She was interrupted, though, by the loud sound of water splashing behind her. Whirling around, she saw the outline of a figure in the dim cavern light. It appeared that someone had tripped and fallen into the lake, unintentionally making his presence known. Christine rose up from the ground and gasped, nearly colliding with a little table as she stepped backward. Erik grabbed a lantern and ran back into the room to retrieve the lasso from the ground. Within a second, he was back out, approaching the intruder with his weapon closely at hand.

Lifting the lantern, Erik allowed the shafts of light to fall upon the shimmering water and onto the figure. Christine adjusted her eyes and suddenly found herself to be staring at a soaked Monsieur Ames, standing nervously in the lake, obviously having swum across. At first the young man only saw Christine, and he gave a nervous laugh. "Hello Mademoiselle," he began. "Just checking up on you for an old friend. Quite a little place you have down here!" Christine just gaped, watching Erik out of the corner of her eye.

Monsieur Ames stepped forward into the light and saw that another person stood before him. Taking a large candle from the side of the lake, he shakily held it up over Erik's silhouette...finally letting the light fall upon the tall man's face. His eyes widened in pure horror, and he gasped. "Good God!" Laurent exclaimed, backing up and almost falling into the water again.

Erik approached him slowly. "I told you that your next encounter with me would not end favorably," he hissed. He had not liked the man from the first time he saw him...knowing that he had approached Christine in an indecent way. The last thing he needed was Monsieur Ames running up and telling the entire aristocracy about the hideous freak who lived below the opera house. And the anger was already raging through him that night...

"Get away you demon. You monster!" Laurent shouted fearfully, reaching into the jacket of his suit and fumbling furiously for his silver pistol. Finding it, he yanked it out and quickly attempted to ready and aim it. Erik prepared to throw the lasso, knowing that he easily had the advantage in the situation. To his shock, though...Christine suddenly splashed through the murky water and ran between the two men, placing herself protectively in front of Erik.

"No!" she yelled, fear and fury within her eyes. "Stop it! Leave him alone and get out of here! "

"What are you doing?" Erik furiously whispered to her. "Get out of the way!" Inwardly, he was awed by her sudden courage and desire to save his life. At the moment, though, she was recklessly endangering them both with her rash actions.

Laurent chuckled nervously at the sight. "Raoul really does have it bad. You left him...for this _thing_." He quickly aimed the gun above Christine. Pointing it directly at Erik's head, he fired. Erik had just enough time to whisk both him and Christine out of the way and onto the cold ground where they landed roughly against the stone.

"Stay down!" he whispered furiously into Christine's ear. In a flash, Erik thrust himself up from the cavern floor and darted deeply into the shadows. Laurent looked around with alarm in the sudden silence, holding the pistol shakily in front of him. Suddenly he heard a soft, eerie voice come from behind him.

"Here I am, Monsieur! Turn around quickly, or the monster shall get you!" Laurent whirled around with a gasp and fired into thin air, the shot echoing emptily off of the walls. Before he could turn back, he felt a sudden tightness grip his neck and choked violently, thrashing his arms in terror. Within a second, a revolting crack rang out through the cave, and Laurent Ames fell face first into the lake. The splash reverberated around them.

Christine let out a cry of fright, still laying on the cavern floor shaking. Slowly, she stood up, only vaguely aware of an ache in her shoulder from when she had violently hit the ground. Erik came out of the shadows and walked up to the motionless body, staring at it with indifference.

"He is dead," she whispered softly, beginning to make her way to where Erik stood.

"So it appears," he replied solemnly, not looking at her.

"He...he would have killed you, though. You had no choice." She said it more as a comfort to herself than to him, and Erik looked at her with slight irritation.

"I am glad you approve, my dear," he retorted sarcastically. Seeing the distraught look in her eyes, though, he softened his tone some. "You should go to your room now. It is still ready for you. Go to sleep."

"What? I could not possibly sleep. I..."

Erik interrupted her harshly. "Unless you wish to see me rid us of the body, I suggest you go to your room."

"Oh..." she whispered understandingly. "Will you...will you come see me when you are done? Please. I do not want to be alone." Her eyes pled with him for comfort.

She really wanted to be in his company? Even without the mask...and after he had fresh blood upon his hands? Standing there in a partially soaked lavender dress, her cheeks flushed and streaked with tears, Christine Daae still looked more beautiful than ever. Remembering all of the recent events, though, he quickly tore his eyes away from her. "If you wish," he replied tonelessly.

Christine nodded in gratitude and obediently headed to her room and climbed under the covers, her heart racing rapidly and a cold sweat trickling down her face. She felt completely isolated and alone. The unpleasant memories of the night sat with her, from seeing the gun pointed directly at her face to the gruesome death of the wretched man. Many minutes passed, and she wondered if he wouldn't come back to her that night.

Finally the door opened slightly, and he looked in at her. His mask had been firmly placed back on. "You are still awake?" he asked wearily.

She looked up at him with relief. "I told you that I could not sleep. Please stay with me tonight." Christine scooted over slightly, not caring about modesties at the moment. She just wanted to be with him...to lean against him in comfort. Erik shook his head tiredly, though.

"I can give you something to help you sleep," he replied, not moving from the doorway.

"Please, no. Please stay with me." Still, he did not move...his expression remaining cold.

"I can sing for you until you fall asleep, then."

She frowned, accepting the fact that song was the only solace she would receive tonight. "Very well," she replied in resignation, settling her head onto the cool pillow and closing her eyes. His magnificent voice rang out around her, and, wrapped in its splendor, she slowly drifted off into an uneasy slumber.

When he was sure she had gone to sleep, he stopped singing and looked down upon her. Erik closed his eyes for a moment...and the first thing he saw was her horrified face from earlier that night...gaping at the monstrosity before her. Shuddering at the image, he closed the door. Quickly he forced himself to think about his newest problem. No doubt a search would soon begin for Monsieur Laurent Ames.


	20. Chapter 20

**Hello all! I was so happy to see all the reviews for the last chapter! I'm also glad to see some new people have started reading. You guys make this so fun. I remember when I posted the first chapter of AWD, someone took me off their alert list and I got scared and considered taking the story down. But I'm glad I didn't because a lot of new people have been added, and I have really enjoyed writing this.**

**Couple of Notes: Some of the elements in this chapter are derived from Susan Kay. I don't think I ever revealed Erik's age in this piece, but he is supposed to be somewhat older than the movie Erik. More along the lines of late forties/early fifties or so...**

**Okay...after four chapters with basically no fluff...I'd say we could use some. This chapter may come out a little shorter, and I was going to put a Raoul scene in, but I decided to reserve this chapter just for E/C resolution and fluff. Hope you don't mind...**

Christine awoke with a start and sat up straight, the faint traces of some unknown nightmare still lingering in her mind. She rubbed her temples, still not entirely rested and certainly not ready to face what new troubles the day would bring forth. A part of her wished to just remain in bed all day, secluded in the little underground nook. At the same time, though, she was eager to earn her beloved's trust again. The realization that the day could possibly end with her leaving him alone in the darkness gave her unbearable heartache.

With a sigh, she finally got up, trying to ignore the vague ache in her shoulder from the night before. Seeing that she had slept in her dress, she quickly tried to smooth out the bothersome wrinkles that lay across the front before finally giving up. Taking a silver brush off the dresser, she raked it through her matted curls, wincing as her tender head was viciously tugged. Pinching her cheeks to get some color in them, she took a final look in the hand mirror before opening the door and leaving the room. Immediately she saw Erik's frame hunched over the table, quickly writing something down.

His thick suit jacket was back on, black and perfectly pressed, and he looked more as she was used to seeing him. Had she not been so afraid of rejection, she would have run up from behind and embraced him...burying her head lovingly into his shoulder and vowing never to leave him alone again.

Christine closed the door loudly behind her so that Erik would be aware of her presence. The last thing she wanted to do was startle him again...or she might end up with a lasso around her own neck. Erik looked up at her with no expression, nodded once in greeting, and returned to his work. A melancholy feeling overtook her at his continuing coldness, and she sauntered over to the divan and plopped down. The seat seemed hard and uncomfortable.

She sat there for a moment, wringing her tiny hands and looking around aimlessly about the cavern. All she could hear were the monotonous scratch of a pen and an occasional drip of water. The terrible near silence was beginning to drive her completely made, as was the thought of the danger that was coming nearer with each passing hour. Finally Christine took a deep breath and spoke, hoping his heart had softened since last night.

"Erik..." she began, her voice shaking slightly. "Should...won't the police become involved with Monsieur Ame's disappearance. I...I imagine that Raoul sent him to watch me. He...he knows where your home is, and I imagine he will suspect...you." There was silence for a moment.

"I have no doubt that they will journey here at some point," he said tonelessly, not looking up from his writing.

His lack of concern bothered her...like someone ready to face their deadly fate. "Shouldn't we leave then? Perhaps...perhaps no one will find us if we go...to our house." She put a slight emphasis on the word "our," hoping to convince him of her true intent to stay with him. It did not seem to work, though.

"Leave if you would like."

Devastation overtook her weary heart, and she could feel her tear ducts begin to well up. Desperately, she tried to keep herself from crying...from acting like the child he accused her of being. "Erik..." she began, composing herself with a deep breath. "I beg you to listen to me. All I wished was to make sure that Raoul was safe. And I wished was for us to be able to live in peace...to live normally..." He interrupted her quickly and whirled around.

"Normally! Christine...we shall never live normally! Do you think we shall take walks through the city...have luncheons with your friends? Did you have a picnic at the park in mind? You cannot just...attempt to fix everything to your liking, you silly child. Do you not understand?"

"Erik...I do understand," she said calmly, finally able to see the deep pain, along with the ever so faint desire, in his eyes. "But...Raoul deserved to know. I just...I wanted everything to be resolved, though it did not work out that way." She sighed and looked down before continuing. "I suppose I have made a mess of things."

"Christine...why do you just not leave? This is obviously not the kind of life you were meant for." He did not sound angry anymore...just tired. And really, it was no wonder. He had spent months in the hellish bounds of unrequited love, had dangerously come to her rescue several times...had been abandoned. And though she did not know all the details of the rest of his life...she knew that is was difficult and full of man kind's hatred of him.

"Is that what you really want, Erik? Do you really want me to go?" Her voice shook with the questions, silent tears streaming down her cheeks. He did not respond. Finally he rapidly stood up and began to walk away without answering her. Christine quickly arose, though, eternally grateful to be able to walk and have even the slightest control over her surroundings. She ran to him and grabbed onto his shoulder. "Erik...please," she whispered. "I am sorry if I have hurt you. Perhaps...perhaps you are right. I do have silly notions of...life and what it should be. But I love you...and that is all that I care about."

He stopped and stared at her, feeling a sickness consume him. "No, Christine," he replied with a sigh. "They are not silly notions. They are what you deserve...not solitude...not darkness." He started to turn away from her again, but she grabbed onto him, placing herself up against him half comfortingly and half sensually.

"Please, Erik. I want a life with you and whatever comes with it. Do not leave me alone." She kissed him furiously against his lips, and he shivered beneath her warm body. He stared down longingly at her luxurious thick curls and soft curves, his mouth still tingling. God...why could he not just have her like a normal courter? Why could he not just walk arm in arm with her out of this dark hell and down the Parisian streets without gawks and stares?

She gripped onto him, her large brown eyes silently pleading with him to stay. A strange feeling entered him, racing throughout his entire body. It was invigorating at first as it coursed through his veins, but after a moment it became almost painful, like a hot knife burning into his rapidly beating heart. He leaned down slowly to kiss her, not knowing whether he was desperately in love or dying. Perhaps both.

As Christine leaned upward in relief to meet his lips, a look of agony crossed his eyes, and he gasped slightly. "Erik!" she exclaimed with concern. "What is wrong?" He pushed her away from him, gripping onto his chest and stumbling his way to the plush sofa. Erik fell upon it with a faint groan. "What is wrong?" she cried, rushing to where he lay with her mouth twisted in worry.

His golden eyes closed for a moment, and he said nothing, further adding to her panic. "Erik!" she gasped. "Oh God! Please. Talk to me. What is wrong?" Finally he looked at her, breathing harshly.

"I shall be fine," he said calmly. "My age...just reveals itself every so often." Indeed he looked older than she had ever seen him, faint wrinkles lining the flawless side of his face.

"Is there something I can do?" She gripped onto his hand with both of her own, subconsciously trying to warm the icy flesh. Noticing his rapid breath, she cautiously moved her fingers to the corners of his mask. He glared at her and began to raise his hands to prevent her from removing it, but she swallowed and ignored him. "Erik...you need to breathe. Please...I do not care about your face. If you die, though, it will kill me." Reluctantly he allowed her to, turning his head sharply so as not to see the disgust of yesterday in her expression. The cool cavern air hit his right side, and he found that his breath did come easier. "Is there anything I can do?" he heard her desperately ask again.

"There is...a blue bottle in the third drawer of the kitchen. Get it, if you will." Quickly she ran over and beginning frantically digging through drawers, throwing useless items onto the floor. Finally she found the bottle, ran back to his side, and quickly twisted it open. After she handed it to him, Erik drank twice from it before turning back to her. He was relieved to see no repulsion in her face...only concern. "I shall be fine, Christine. I have just been...neglecting my health as of late."

"Oh..." she gasped with a horrified look, thinking it to be her own fault. Kneeling next to him on the floor, she placed her face into her hands in self-hatred. "I am so sorry, Erik. Please...please forgive me for leaving." Realizing that she may be putting more distress upon him with her desperate pleas, she attempted to compose herself. Why did she have to be such an idiot sometimes? Suddenly, she felt him grasp her two wrists, and she looked up at him.

"Calm down, Christine," he said firmly, though with a faint hint of amusement. "I shall be fine within several hours." He was surprised as she carefully placed her arms around his form and buried her head almost desperately into his shoulder. At first his heart began to race again, but, to his relief, it slowed after a moment. With her comfortingly in his embrace, a peaceful feeling overtook him, and he began to doze...musing over the horrible irony of dying just when he had her again. It would really be the appropriate ending to his life. As he slept, Christine took great notice of his chest, making sure that it steadily continued to rise and fall.

When he awoke several hours later, he realized most of the pain had subsided, though a general weakness still remained. All he felt was the pressure of her body against him. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to treasure the warmth and sweet scent that floated around her. Reaching down, he groped around on the floor for his mask but was unable to find it. Christine rose up slightly, intently looking into his eyes.

"Are you...better?" she asked shakily, gripping onto his hand.

He was extremely nervous at having her up so close to his horrible visage but managed to calmly reply to her question. "I am." They lay in silence for a moment.

"Erik...the police will come soon," she said softly. "Please...forgive me. I promise I will not leave you again. Let's get out of here together. Let's go to our home."

He settled his gaze upon her...his beautiful guardian Angel. "If you wish," he replied. Raising himself up, he cautiously took her into his arms, and she gripped onto him. He couldn't push her away anymore...at least not without killing himself in the process. And even without his mask on, she was looking at him just as she did the wretched boy that night under the gaze of Apollo. No...the look she was giving him right now was more powerful...more complete. He closed his eyes again in bliss and felt her lay a soft kiss on the side of his face that had been shown nothing but hatred.

"Can we still be married?" she asked shyly and with a small smile. "I can walk down the aisle now."

"I would have preferred to have carried you," he replied into her hair, with a touch of good humor. "There was something rather enticing about you not being able to run away from me."


	21. Chapter 21

**Hi everyone! I loved all of the reviews! I'm glad that you liked my last line! Sometime I have trouble writing the fluff, but this time it seemed to work out well!**

**I'm not sure exactly how much more we have to go... but I'll hazard a guess of between three to five more chapters. Someone questioned me about how "intimate" things were going to get between our couple. I've been debating that for a while**

**They will have become intimate by the time the story is over. I still haven't decided whether to just imply that it happens or give you an actual scene and up the rating. I will assure you that, should I choose to up the rating, my sensual scenes will not be smutty. They will not have explicit details and will probably just barely go beyond a PG13 rating. If you have opinions, I'd be happy to take them into consideration. **

When Laurent Ames did not immediately return the night of Christine's departure, Raoul quickly brushed any concerns that he had from his mind. It was very possible that it had simply become late, and Laurent had decided to head home afterwards. The Vicomte was irked over the delay but looked forward to the next day...continuing to hope that his suspicions about Christine's new companion would prove to be false. Perhaps she really had found some shy young musician in her many days at the opera house. Somehow he doubted this, though.

The next morning arrived with an overcast sky, and Raoul still received no visit from Monsieur Ames. He was extremely thankful that he had not paid the man yet, or else he would have thought himself to be duped again. Impatiently he waited as the hours passed, but the next night came with not a word whatsoever.

The Vicomte did receive one piece of good news that put his troubled mind partially at rest. Apparently all of the men involved in his attack had been discovered and arrested, including the Inspector. At least that lowered the number of people he would have to continue to watch out for in the shadows of the night. Now he focused all of his energies on finding Christine and Laurent.

It was the following day when Doctor Murrell entered the room and asked him if he would accept the visit of an unknown woman. Curiously, Raoul told him that he would. In walked a relatively attractive younger woman, her blonde hair tucked neatly up in a bun and shadows under her small green eyes. She was adorned very elaborately in an expensive blue velvet dress, trimmed with white lace along the edges. To get through the little door, she had to turn to the side, as the large hoop in her skirt made entrance difficult. Once in, she carefully smoothed out her dress and looked at Raoul for a moment as if to make sure she was in the right room.

It took the Vicomte a moment to remember who she was. "Oh...Madame Ames," he said in sudden recognition as she looked down upon him. "It is a pleasure to see you today. To what do I owe this visit?"

Sophie Ames smiled kindly, but there was an odd look within her eyes. "It is nice to see you as well, Monsieur de Chagny. I...I am terribly sorry to bother you in your condition...but I have to ask you something of importance."

"Of course," he replied curiously.

She sighed and looked at her white gloved hands. "My husband...I have not seen him for two nights now. It is not...completely abnormal for him to disappear sometimes, but usually at least one of his man-servants knows where he is. I...I am worried that he has gotten himself into trouble." Raoul tensed but spoke honestly.

"Madame...I saw him two nights ago. I...I am afraid that I sent him out on a favor. He...has not returned?"

"No...he has not. What sort of favor did you send him on?" She paused and pursed her lips. "I am sorry. It is really none of my business."

The Vicomte hesitated. "It...was an errand of an odd nature, I am afraid." They stayed in silence for a moment.

"Do you have any...idea at all where he could be?" she finally asked, looking absentmindedly out the window and into the city.

Raoul sighed. "I...may." He thought deeply for a moment, knowing that if his presumptions were correct, Laurent was likely no longer alive. And Christine was in grave danger. The Vicomte shuddered before speaking again. " Madame?"

"Yes, Monsieur?"

"Perhaps... you should contact the police. Tell them to come here at once."

"Very...very well," she replied, wringing her hands together as her face paled slightly. Raoul felt a sharp pang of guilt go through him. Had he just inadvertently created a widow?

"I...I am terrible sorry, Madame Ames," he said softly, staring at the ceiling. "If anything has happened, I take full responsibility for it."

She nodded and began to slowly head back to the door, her shoes clicking gently against the floor and her long skirts swishing softly. After several seconds, she turned to face him again with an odd expression upon her face. "Do not feel too badly," she said almost inaudibly. "Sometimes we get what we deserve." Madame Sophie Ames quickly departed from the room.

Raoul stared after her a minute before placing his throbbing head into his hands in frustration and concern. Absolutely nothing made sense to him, but he would be best off assuming the worst. It was most likely that Christine was currently at the mercy of the Opera Ghost. Was she under some sort of devilish mind control? Had he threatened her in some way...sworn to kill someone she loved if she did not go with him?

The Vicomte could not bring himself to believe that she was really in love with this...thing. Half the time he was with her in those tumultuous months, she had talked of how frightened she was of the Phantom. _So distorted, deformed it was hardly a face...What I once used to dream, I now dread... _All her words had been of horror. This...Erik was a murderer for God's sake! What else was he to think?

Late that afternoon, three uniformed policemen came into his room and immediately began questioning him about his friend's disappearance.

"Where would you guess that he is right now?" one officer finally asked, pen ready.

"My best guess, Monsieur...would be that he is dead...somewhere beneath the opera house." The policeman looked at him as if he had gone mad.

"Dead? At the Opera House! " he exclaimed, not even bothering to write it down. "Where on earth did you draw that conclusion from?"

"It...is just a best guess," he replied quietly "Perhaps I am wrong." They interrogated him a while longer before leaving...and Raoul somehow doubted that they would find much, even if they did decide to search the dank cellars. He now knew that it would be useless to try to explain to them about his fiancee as well. It would be he and he alone who would have to find Christine. He would be taking the plunge by himself. No one else would be hurt in this miserable game.

Just as he thought, the police returned to his room several days later with no body or traces of Laurent found, though they had made the arduous trek down into the cellars. They were quite interested to discover a little house below the Opera Populaire...though it was more a thing of fascination than a crime scene. Some officers took the more valuable items they found, winking to each other as they claimed they were collecting evidence for the case.

Really they had nothing to go on...no leads...no identifiable suspects. It was no secret that Laurent himself had somewhat of a criminal record. Some high level officers believed he had likely involved himself in illegal activity and either been murdered or fled from his troubles. Slowly they began to back away from the case...leaving it as another unsolved Parisian mystery.

Raoul allowed them to depart without a word about the Phantom or his former fiancee. If he needed the law, he would call for it later...after he had found them.  Even if it took weeks...months...years. He could only imagine what horrors she was going through right now.

_

* * *

__Goes back several days to where last E/C scene left off..._

They had traveled all of the following night with no problems or impediments. It was too early for a search for the dead aristocrat to have begun, and it appeared that the two managers really had avoided calling the police over the reappearance of O.G. The strange couple silently rode in the carriage through the back roads and alleys and to the edge of the city.

Both were quiet throughout the journey. Christine could tell that he had not fully recovered from his sickness, despite his adeptness at hiding his discomfort. As he had loaded their belongings, she could see a rare exhaustion deeply within his eyes...a slight slowness in his graceful step. When she had attempted to help him pack, though, he had pushed her aside, and she had relented. Perhaps he trusted her more, but Erik still obviously thought of her as someone in need of his care. He was nowhere near revealing any vulnerable part of himself yet, and, in many ways, Erik still remained a mystery to her.

Still, though, she felt extremely protected as they continued forward, and she hoped that, despite his silence, she brought some semblance of comfort to him. Cautiously she grasped his arm and looked up at his face. Though it was very dark and the mask obscured much of his expression, she thought she saw a vague look of pleasure come into his eyes at her touch. Encouraged, she continued to hold on...knowing that it would be up to her to break many of the barriers that still lay between them. Perhaps some would never be broken.

"Are we to go to the house tonight?" she asked softly, speaking for the first time in almost an hour.

"No," he replied almost immediately. "I shall need a day or two, or rather a night or two, to make it habitable for us. There are several inns at the edge of the city where we will be forced to stay until that time. They are secluded, and the people keep to themselves. It shall not put us in harm's way."

"Oh," she said softly. Christine was slightly surprised that he was willing to stay in a public inn but said nothing of it.

Erik had not been lying when he said that the inns were isolated. Off by themselves in an area of a city that was only dimly lit, several grey stone buildings sat by themselves. Had she not been securely next to Erik, she would have been wary of the location. Given their situation, though, she knew it would be even less safe for them to be around many people.

He stopped the carriage in a shadowed corner near the front entrance and sat there momentarily. Slowly he began to get out and, for a moment, Christine was confused by the delay. Then she realized he was waiting to see if she would offer to retrieve the key for the room...as it would be much more convenient for more than one reason. "I shall go," she quickly chirped, slightly more loudly than she meant to.

He stared at her momentarily. Should anyone journey this way looking for a masked man, Christine's going would save them quite a bit of trouble. Reluctantly he agreed and handed her the francs.

Twenty minutes later found them in a small two-roomed area. The floor was made of a slightly aged wood, and the walls were a solid white color. Each room contained a feather bed, a mahogany desk, and a soft arm chair. She had easily secured the space from a disinterested inn keeper who had looked up from his ledger only to quickly hand her the keys and take payment. When asked whether she wanted two beds or one, she had hesitated but said two. Somehow Christine knew that if she got only one, Erik would let her have it and spend the night standing up.

It gave her a strange feeling being there with him in such a seemingly normal place. Erik quietly looked around, carefully inspecting the interior with slight distaste but acceptance. Christine glanced about as well. It may have been a dull room, but it was fairly tidy, and really she didn't care what it looked like. For the moment, they were safe, and they were together. Quietly she approached him from behind and lightly touched his arm. He turned to her with curiosity, and she drew him toward her.

Removing his mask slowly, she tenderly kissed him in the dim light, and he returned it...drawing her up and against him. Being next to each other was enough to make them forget all of the past and present troubles...even if only for a brief moment. The kiss ended, and she leaned against his towering figure for a second. "Even without your mask, I believe you hide from me sometimes," she said softly. He said nothing to refute this. They ended the embrace, and Christine began to go to the other room to prepare for bed, gently handing his mask back to him before she left. He stared down at the white porcelain for second.

At that moment, the door suddenly opened with a quiet creak, causing Christine to jump three feet into the air and Erik to clutch his weapon. In stepped a girl, not over the age of twelve, with a mop and a lantern. Thinking no one was in there, she was immediately startled to see two other souls. Erik quickly whirled to cover his still unmasked right side, but the young girl had already caught a tiny glimpse of it. She stepped back quickly, a shocked look crossing her face as she nearly dropped the lantern.

Christine finally found her voice after several seconds. "Excuse me! What are you doing here?" she asked much more harshly than she meant to.

"I...they...told me to come clean this room...I...I...am sorry. I did not hear...anyone. Oh...I am sorry." Her tiny voice shook, and her eyes continued to involuntarily dart back to Erik.

"Well...we are not... in need of your services right now," she softened her voice some before the girl collapsed of fright in the door way. "Please...come back after we are gone."

"Yes, Madame," she said quickly, scrambling outside and into the darkness. Christine took several deep breaths of air and closed the door, leaning her back against it. Slowly she came up behind Erik and gently touched his shoulder, not knowing whether this was the time to leave him alone or come forth with solace.

"It..." she began. "Oh, she is just a silly girl. I..." Erik immediately interrupted her.

"Christine...it is not your place to excuse the world for its actions. When there are people around they will stare at my mask and fear the sight of my face. It is just the way things are. Accept them." He turned from her and began to distractedly look through some papers. She could only stand there quietly...slightly hurt by his reaction.

Why would he not accept her comfort? She knew that he had to feel some pain over such things. She could see it in his glowing golden eyes. Why was it that she was always the one who felt the need to cry...for both of them?

"I...am going to sleep now," she said softly, biting her lip.

"Is there anything that you need?" he asked calmly, looking up at her expressionlessly.

_Yes, I need you to comfort me like I am a five year old girl. _"No. I am fine. Good night, Erik." She turned and went into the other room, climbing under the crisp, white sheets. The several times she awoke during the night, she could see the orange glow from the lantern that was still burning in the other room. She doubted if he ever went to sleep that night. Of course...he was not used to sleeping in a bed.

With a sigh, she pulled the covers over her head and settled back into her slumber.


	22. Chapter 22

**Hey! Thanks to all who reviewed. I know that the last chapter was not too exciting but sometimes transitions are necessary. **

**I decided not to up the rating for sensual scenes, but this chapter will have some intense PG13 stuff, so there's your warning. Not too many chapters left to go, and there will be a couple of cliffies as we come to our ending. So enjoy the fluff! Read and review**!

Very early in the morning, when the sun had not even crossed the horizon, Erik departed to complete all remaining work upon the house. It was his wish to get through the more populated areas while it was still dark, keeping his face covered in the shadows of his cloak. By the time that it was daylight, he would be at the fairly secluded house where no one would know of his presence. Christine offered to accompany him, but he told her it would be best if she remained at the inn. A strange man with a covered face was a minor curiosity. A strange man with a covered face and an attractive young girl on his arm was an ill upon society.

So Christine remained there by herself, flipping through her books and planning her future...or at least an ideal version of it. Throughout the day, her gaze fell to the wedding dress that now sat upon a hanger instead of the waxen doll. She imagined herself in the elaborate gown briefly...looking forward to the day when she and Erik would come together in union. Perhaps...perhaps once she vowed her devotion, Erik would allow her to become closer to him...to share the burden of the nightmares that she knew still plagued his sleep.

As the afternoon sun rose high in the sky, she began to feel slightly lonely...miles away from everyone that she knew. It was a vague emptiness that made the heart ache. She wondered if this was how Erik had felt his entire life...with no one to touch or talk to. Even in the loneliest hours of her life, after her father had passed away, Christine had always had a caretaker or friend nearby...even if just for a quick hug.

Finally, late in the evening, Erik entered the room holding a paper bag. He looked slightly worn from the events of the day but still seemed unfettered by anything that had occurred. She smiled at him from her place in the cushy arm chair where she was curled with a book. "Did everything...go well?" she asked softly, placing the novel upon the table.

"Yes," he replied stoically. "We shall leave very early tomorrow morning before the sun has risen. All seems to be safe for the time being." Quietly he removed the cloak from his head and set the bag upon the desk. "I have brought some food to sustain us for several days. It is not much, but it should suffice."

"Thank you," she replied, picking up a bread loaf and several ripe pieces of fruit within her hands. As a look of rare exhaustion crossed his face, Erik sat upon the bed and slowly removed his shoes. Christine picked up her book again, sensing that he was not in the mood for conversation. After writing something down and rummaging about the room, he spoke softly to her again.

"You may continue to read in here if you would like. I am retiring for the night." Without another word, he lay down fully clothed atop the woolen covers of the bed, not moving a muscle as he fell into an uneasy rest. She watched him sleep for a moment, feeling intensely peaceful in his presence.

As her own eyelids became heavy, she stood up and began to make her way to her own room, a melancholy feeling overtaking her as she entered solitude again. Christine stared at the empty place next to Erik. Surely it would not be...wrong to simply lay beside him. She felt so isolated...had been alone for the entire day.

Quietly she made her way over and sat down upon the bed, her light frame barely moving the mattress springs. Even more softly, she pulled her legs up onto the structure and lay her head onto the pillow next to him, tucking her cotton nightdress beneath her. Unfortunately, Erik was unused to having anyone near him in sleep. At the slight movement, he jerked around to face her...complete surprise in his eyes. "What are you doing?" he asked, more coldly than he meant to.

She froze momentarily, her face flushing. "I...did not want to be alone," she stuttered out. "Please." God...what he must think of her childishness now.

There was a long, tense silence, and she could not tell what he was thinking as he gazed upon her. "Fine," he replied, too tired and surprised to argue. After dimming the light in the room to near darkness, he untied the strings of his mask, removed it, and lay his head back upon the pillow.

Her heart calmed slightly as he permitted her to stay, grateful to have someone near her. Though the moral value of chastity lingered in her mind...she told herself that they would be married soon. She was not doing anything anyway. Just lying beside him in sleep...

Cautiously she glanced up at him and saw that he was still awake, staring up at the ceiling in quiet thought. Suddenly he turned and met her gaze. They just stared at each other for a long moment, her brown eyes reflecting the glow of his golden ones. Her breath increased slightly, and she wished for his touch...any physical contact. And she hated feeling so desperate for him, when he seemed so distant.

Closing her eyes, she attempted to drift off, when she felt his arm cautiously come across her tiny shoulders. Startled, she jumped slightly, causing him to begin to draw back. With a slight mutter of protest at his recoil, though, she moved toward him and wrapped her arms tightly around his waist, feeling his heart beat against hers. Stunned at first, Erik pulled her against him and leaned his head into her soft curls, taking more comfort in her presence than he would ever allow her to know.

So many prying eyes today...children scrambling into the arms of suspicious parents to seek protection from the looming man draped in a cloak...the walking shadow. His Angel's warmth was something he had never known in the open coffin...in his cold death's sleep. He didn't even know how she could stand to be up against such icy flesh, but perhaps the material of his suit held some heat. Nevertheless, she did not flinch away from him once during the night.

When Christine awoke very early the next morning, she was still within his long arms. The sun had not begun to rise yet, and only a dimly lit lantern provided her with light. With a sigh of contentment, she snuggled in closer to him. Her slight movement awoke him, and she laughed apologetically. "We shall not get any sleep together," she said lightly. Christine blushed as she realized it could have been interpreted differently than she meant it to, but he did not seem to notice.

He looked down at her quietly in the dark, and she was staring up at his face with nothing less than love. Grabbing her out of some instinct he had learned to repress even before he had seen the harems of Persia, Erik kissed her passionately and deeply. Drawing back to see if she would be upset with such forwardness in such an inappropriate setting, he looked at her expression and saw nothing but delight and wanting. Slowly he kissed her again, more slowly, rubbing his lips gently against hers. She eagerly returned it, flicking her tongue gently.

After a moment, he left her lips and began to kiss along her slender neck and throat...praying his instinct was not somehow flawed. She murmured his name in a way he had never heard it said before...like a plea and lay back onto the pillow in bliss. He followed her head down, continuing to kiss her, and she grabbed onto his shoulders to pull him closer.

As he placed his lips upon her, she absentmindedly undid several buttons of his linen shirt, revealing his smooth chest. Softly she touched the pale flesh, and his golden eyes widened a moment...surprised by the sudden sensation. Slowly she came up from beneath him and kissed along his jaw line as he closed his eyes and ran his hands through her soft curls. She moved down his neck and lightly brushed her lips against his chest to which he groaned slightly in pleasure, glad it was still too dark for her to see his various scars.

With a crimson blush, Christine moved her nightdress down her shoulders slightly, giving him more access to herself. Eyes wide, he stroked the heaving area right below her neck with his slender fingers, marveling at its softness, but did not venture any lower. Coming back up, he met her lips again, and she moaned softly into his mouth, never wanting his touch to cease.

With a sigh, though, he ended the kiss and wrapped her within his arms and against his chest. Though happy to be against him, she was slightly startled by the sudden end to their more intimate relations. She looked up at him curiously, her eyes asking a question she could not ask.

He stared back at her, breathing heavily, the desire evident within his eyes. "We must...stop now, Christine. Or I fear I will not be able to."

"Oh," she whispered, stroking his marred face lovingly, not entirely sure she was as concerned as he was. Seeing her forlorn expression, he moved back and kissed her gently.

"Christine...I love you as I fear you will never know. That you even allow me to touch and kiss you is..." he choked slightly, before continuing. "We shall be married within a month's time," he whispered into her ear before drawing back up. Quickly he buttoned his shirt back up and tied his mask into place. She situated her nightgown back upon her shoulders and smiled shyly as he stood up, taking on his dignified presence once more.

The couple silently prepared to leave in the early morning hours...departing only slightly later than they had intended to.

* * *

_Occurs several weeks later..._

The Vicomte gazed up at the opera house and shivered in spite of himself, remembering with anxiety the many terrifying events that had occurred within. Two days before, he had been released from the hospital with his concussion healed and one arm in a sling. Despite the persistent coaxing of his sisters to come home and rest, Raoul had immediately begun his long, painstaking search for the kidnapper of his fiancee and murderer of his friend. It pained him that almost a month had passed since she had been taken. So much could have happened in that time. He only prayed that they had not traveled far. Surely it would be difficult for a deformed masked man to journey about in public.

Going on a one man search, he knew, would be useless in a city the size of Paris. The only hope that he had was to find someone whom Christine had kept in contact with...someone who knew the affairs of the opera ghost. Raoul could think of no better person to go to than Madame Giry. Walking down the winding corridors of the ballet dormitories, he finally found her by herself, looking over several recently designed costumes.

"Madame Giry!" he called softly from behind her. The older woman looked up in surprise.

"Monsieur de Chagny!" she exclaimed. "How are you? Oh...I heard what happened to you! How awful!"

"I am much better now, thank you, and I am sorry to disturb you." He hesitated, debating how to go about asking this. "Madame...have you heard from Christine as of late?"

An odd expression crossed the woman's face. Christine had indeed sent her a recent letter, announcing her marriage...but she was not quite sure just how much the Vicomte was supposed to know of her current situation. Better to ask Christine before she gave any damaging information away. "No, Monsieur. I have not," she replied, not looking into his eyes.

Raoul could tell by her troubled expression that she was not being completely honest with him. "Madame..." he began with a sigh. "I know you think you are protecting her, but I believe Christine to be in danger. If she is truly not in harm's way, I shall leave her alone. But...I must make sure of this for myself. Please. Tell me where she is." The older woman shook her head firmly.

"All I can assure you of, Monsieur, are that she is safe and well. Please do not ask me anymore about it." The ballet instructor rapidly turned away from him. He was determined to continue the interrogation, but then he noticed Meg Giry walking down the hall out of the corner of his eye. Perhaps she would know something...and would be more likely to reveal the information.

"Thank you anyhow, Madame" he said briefly and quickly strode after the young blonde girl. "Meg!" he called quietly, so that her mother would not hear. She jumped and whirled around.

"Oh, Monsieur de Chagny," she said with a slight blush. "Oh...your poor arm! How are you?"

"I am fine, Meg," he said quickly. "But I am afraid that Christine may not be." Her face paled slightly, and she looked at him with wide blue eyes.

"Why? What has happened?"

"Your mother did not tell you?" he asked cautiously.

"Maman keeps in touch with Christine through letters but does not tell me of her affairs. Really, it makes me rather angry. I was her friend after all." She sighed in contempt before looking back up at him, slightly embarrassed to have gone off on a rant.

"These letters, Meg. Where are they?" he asked eagerly. She looked up at him unsurely, then turned her eyes to the ground.

"Maman keeps them in an envelope. But...I would not feel right..."she began before he interrupted her.

"Meg...your mother does not understand that Christine may be in great danger. She may be with the Phantom! Only I can help her...and perhaps now you can too. Please, Meg." Her mouth twisted in thought for a moment as she debated what to do. She did not think the Vicomte meant ill will, for Christine had never spoken badly of him.

"Very well," she replied quietly. "Let me have a second." She scampered off in her ballet shoes and left the Vicomte waiting against the wall impatiently and hoping that Madame Giry would not spot him. After several minutes, the little blonde returned out of breath, several envelopes within hand. All were addressed to a location on the southern edge of Paris. "Here," she said nervously. "And...tell Christine that I miss her, Monsieur."

"Thank you, Meg," he replied with relief. "You have done your friend a great service today." She blushed and nodded. "Good bye, Mademoiselle." The Vicomte rushed out of the opera house, ignoring every ache that still lingered in his body.

Five hours later, Raoul found himself staring curiously and anxiously up at a small two story house, practically in the middle of nowhere. Though getting to the general location had been of no extreme difficulty, it had taken hours of searching and interrogating the locals for him to find the home. Slowly, though, he began to become assured that he was heading in the right direction. Nervous citizens had spoken of a strange cloaked man walking the streets several weeks back...one reporting a woman with him in the wee hours of the morning. Then...he had come upon an inn where a young girl had overheard his questions to the innkeeper. She had approached him quickly, speaking excitedly about a man with half a death's head and his beautiful wife. After another hour of searching, he believed he had found the location he sought.

It was in a sightly wooded area, many miles from the nearest stores. The only sound in the air was the wind rustling the trees softly and the faint chirps of a nest of robins. Green grass covered most of the ground, except for where the large elm trees obscured the sunlight. Depending on one's mood, the area could have been considered either serene or eerie. Currently, the only person with Raoul was his driver, sitting in the carriage by the dirt road. The Vicomte had thought it best if at least one person was with him, should he need help.

The grey stone house was quaint, though it had a slightly lonely feel to it. Nervously he walked up to the front and glanced around, awed by the slight normalcy of the situation. He peeked into the windows and saw that it was dark inside. Along with the fact that there was no carriage or horses in sight, the absence of light led him to believe that no one was home. A spring breeze hit his face, causing him to shiver. The sun was beginning to set lower in the sky, and he began to wonder if he should have waited until the next morning so as to give himself more daylight.

Raoul strolled to the back of the house and saw another thicket of trees. It also appeared that someone had started a little garden. Two tomato plants were slowly beginning to bear fruit and a patch of Marigolds had bloomed under a freshly soiled ground. It made him feel rather odd inside to see such sights in such an isolated location...as if he had stepped into a different world. As the air became cooler, he buttoned up his wool coat and began to return to the front, debating whether to come back at a different time. It would certainly be hell to find this place again. Cursing once under his breath, he stared at the ground in thought and turned the corner to go to the front.

Suddenly, he realized that two shadows had moved directly across his own. Raoul heard a startled gasp and quickly looked up...directly into the face of Christine Daae.

No. No longer Christine Daae.

She was adorned in an elaborate wedding dress, decorated with lace and sequins that sparkled in the dim light. Her dark brown curls were neatly encased under a white veil that nearly matched her porcelain skin. As she looked upon him, the expression on her full red lips changed to one of complete shock, and he saw her doe eyes widen with a look of both surprise and worry of what was to come. Finally he forced himself to tear his eyes away from the beautiful woman in front of him. Anxiously, he looked up at her companion.

The Vicomte de Chagny and the Phantom of the Opera met eye to eye for the first time...standing only feet apart.


	23. Chapter 23

**So many reviews! Oh wow! Thanks you guys! It made my day! No comments on this chapter. I'm pretty sure that there will be two more chapters after this, plus maybe an epilogue. Sorry...but this chapter ends with another... cliffie. I have left hints throughout the chapter, though, so it will not be a complete mystery.**

Three weeks earlier, when Christine had first set her big brown eyes upon the house, she had immediately let out a gasp of delight. Truthfully the stone home was nothing extremely out of the ordinary, especially when compared with the enormous manors she had encountered. Perhaps that was one of the reasons why she liked it, though...that and the fact she was sharing it with someone she passionately loved. Nevertheless, she did not desire extravagance.

As Erik quietly led her through the little home with a rare look of contentment upon his features, she happily babbled about what each room could be used for and where they could put their belongings. The house contained three bedrooms, all partially furnished with featherbeds and wardrobes. The sitting room had several midnight blue sofas and a pine green divan, giving the room a darker but cozy atmosphere. Several mahogany tables and desks were scattered about as well. It was obvious that a lot was left to be added...possibly even another room, but those things would come with precious time.

At the end of the tour, she had turned and kissed him affectionately on the cheek, tears of joy brimming in her eyes. "Thank you," was all she could manage to murmur. He had just embraced her, for the first time not loathing himself for causing her to cry.

The next weeks had been spent readying the home with their own belongings...figuring out how they would come by basic needs. Christine quickly talked of planting a flower garden...to which Erik chuckled slightly and asked her if she thought a vegetable garden may be of more use to them. Indeed, their isolation would pose some difficulties, and both knew that at least one of them would have to make occasional trips to the city for necessities. Though money was not a problem at the moment, the suspicion and curiosity of others could continue to be bothersome.

Each night they continued to sleep in each other's chaste embrace. Erik relished the divine fact that she was securely within his arms...after years of complete solitude and absence of human touch. Christine, unused to isolation, took immense comfort in their physical contact. Perhaps someday...when things had calmed down...she would pay visit to Madame Giry and her old friends. But for now...Erik was her sole companion. Had he been overly distant, the loneliness would have been too much for the young girl to sanely bear.

Slowly Erik began to reveal small parts of his life to her, bridging the large gap between them. On one occasion, she had picked up a small ornate vase from a box, marveling at the intricate designs on it. "Where did you get this?" she had asked curiously. "It is beautiful." He was quiet for a long moment.

"In Persia," he replied softly.

"Persia! What did you do there?" A strange look crossed his eyes...almost a sad one.

"I...designed buildings and was...involved in some...governmental affairs." She knew there was much more but did not venture deeper. Christine had laid a hand upon his unmasked cheek, and he had leaned into her touch rather than pull away from it.

Finally Erik announced to her that he had made plans for them to become married. She had run into his arms from her place on the settee, joy within her face. Never had he thought he would receive such a look from her. Only months earlier, she had gazed at him with nothing but fear and contempt.

It was a very simple wedding. Christine had considered inviting Madame Giry and Meg, but venturing into the city this soon could have proven to be dangerous. They were wed with two elderly nuns as witnesses. Both had poor eyesight, a nice convenience for a couple who did not wish to have their presence well known. The priest himself was an older man who kept his attention on his work and away from the odd masked man and his very young bride.

Christine had gripped Erik's hand as the vows were read. A strange, distant look had been in his eyes all day...and she decided he was simply as nervous as she was. He had stared at her in awe when he first saw her in the elaborate bridal gown...her curls flowing in cascades down her soft features. She had blushed in his intense gaze, admiring his tall, formally suited frame. When they kissed at the end of the ceremony, she had felt a combination of intense passion and comfort come through his touch.

As they departed from the chapel, he had stopped outside of the carriage for a moment and leaned against the side. "What is wrong, Erik?" she asked, slightly disturbed by the grimace on his mouth.

"Nothing," he replied after a moment. He felt her squeeze his hand lovingly, and he softly kissed her cheek. In the late afternoon, they had returned to their home as man and wife. Christine smiled nervously to herself as she thought of their approaching wedding night...when the embrace would cease to be so chaste.

As she clasped Erik's hand tightly within her own, heading into their home for the first time as his bride, the last thing that Christine had expected was to hear someone's footsteps softly approaching from behind the house. She had frozen in place, and Erik had stepped protectively in front of her, quickly reaching for the Punjab lasso.

It was at that moment that the Vicomte emerged from around the corner, looking up with complete surprised as he encountered the couple. Christine had immediately stepped out from behind Erik in shock, not believing she was staring into the eyes of her former fiancee. As she quickly composed herself and looked back and forth between the two men, she slowly took in the seriousness of the situation. Their hate for one another burned within both of their eyes.

For a moment, she debated who to address first. Raoul had taken a step backward, one arm in a sling, realizing that he was not in the best of places. She was very relieved to see that Erik was no longer readying his lasso, but his arms were stiffly crossed and his face held a vague malice. Cautiously she reached for Erik's hand and entwined her fingers within his, both as a form of comfort and as a restraint. Keeping her voice steady, she spoke to her childhood friend.

"Raoul," she began cautiously. "What...what on earth are you doing here? How did you find us?" The tension in the air could have been cut with a knife. At the sound of the Vicomte's name, she felt Erik draw her closer to him.

"I...well..." he stuttered, not taking his eyes off Erik. "I was quite concerned for your safety and came to see how you were doing. A...friend told me where you were." Christine looked confused for a moment.

"Meg," she murmured after a second. She sighed and shook her veiled head. "I am doing fine, Raoul," she said sternly. "I...told you that I had...met someone else."

"Well," he said, mustering some courage. "I am not sure you were completely honest about whom you were with. You did run off rather quickly." Good God...what had he gotten himself in to. The Phantom's eyes were glowing at him like hot embers, and a dangerous energy hung around him. Raoul nearly jumped as the Phantom spoke for the first time, the soft yet menacing voice giving him chills.

"What Christine does is her own affair, _Monsieur_. Do you think it wise to be trespassing on my property by yourself? I daresay I am not too comfortable with you knowing of my location. "

The Vicomte's eyes widened. "I shall get off your property after you release her. I do not know what you have done to force her to be with you...but I will not stand by and watch as you take advantage of her, you vile monster." Erik stood tall, his mouth forming into a sneer of fury.

"Quite daring words to say, boy. You never know just what a monster such as myself might be capable of." He took a dangerous step forward, closely eyeing the Vicomte to see if he had a weapon on him.

Christine tensed at the heated exchange. "Please," she pled to both of them anxiously. A part of her knew she had to get Raoul out of there immediately, but she also was aware that he would not be convinced of her safety so easily. She needed to talk to the Vicomte alone...and she prayed that would be possible. "Raoul...it is a very inconvenient time for you to be here. Please...leave. Let me be in peace. I am fine."

Christine tightened her grip on her husband's hand, hoping he would restrain himself. Raoul knew that he would get nowhere in this situation. Christine certainly was not free to tell him the truth of what was going on...not in the presence of this very dangerous man. He would wind up dead if he continued this confrontation. Raoul realized that he would have to return to the house with more man power...the police force to be exact.

"Very well," replied the Vicomte quickly as he backed away. "I shall leave you both. Have a good night." At a fast pace, he whirled around and began to find his way back to his carriage, digging for the pistol in his jacket should the Phantom attempt to follow him.

Christine could feel Erik's muscles tense in anger. "He is not done. He will bring the authorities here." A dangerous look came over his face...one she had seen before and never wished to see again. But she knew that Erik was likely right. Raoul was not consoled. The Vicomte believed her to be an unwilling prisoner. Closing her eyes, she began to quickly think before Erik took off after him in a mindless rage.

"Erik...let me talk to him...alone," she said quietly, turning to him.

"What?" his eyes flared at her in fury. "He shall drag you off with him. Do you really think he will believe you could love a monster, Christine? Your _friend_ shall never be convinced otherwise." His heart raced as he prepared for a different course of action, attempting to ignore the pleading fear in his new wife's eyes.

Slowly she drew him down to her, kissing him lightly against his lips. He wrapped her into his chest...fear and anger filling him at the thought of losing everything he had gained in the last month. "Erik..." he heard her whisper. "Please. Do not...settle this with another death. I beg you. Let me talk to him. He will listen to me if you are not there." He inhaled her lavender scent deeply, not wanting to let her go. What he not would have done to strangle the damned boy without repercussions. It would be so easy...so reassuring to not have to worry about his interference anymore.

Christine drew back from him and stared into his golden eyes, silently begging him. She would not leave unless he allowed her to depart with his love. "Go, then," he said softly and without malice.

"Thank you." She smiled gratefully and kissed him deeply. "I shall be back within a moment, my love." He watched her take off into trees, a faint breeze ruffling her white dress and her veil flying out in a stream of lace behind her. His heart beat quickly, and he felt an emptiness eat at him as he wondered if she would have been better off marrying the Vicomte. Away from this isolation...Living a normal life..._Strange how dark it was already growing this evening..._

Christine took off through the dimly lit bramble, hoping her former fiancé had not already gotten too far. "Raoul!" she called. "Raoul! Come back!" The Vicomte whipped around in surprise at her voice, not knowing what to expect. With shocked relief, he saw that it was Christine alone who came running up to him.

"Christine!" he exclaimed quietly, turning to face her. "I did not think he would let you away from him! My God! It is him. You...you are married to the Phantom!" She sighed, as he grasped her arms and looked into her eyes. It was very similar to when she had confronted him atop the roof. He half-expected her to fall to her knees, weeping in horror. She remained composed, though.

"Raoul...his name is Erik," she began slightly out of breath. "And yes, we are married. And I promise you that I am happy. Please believe me. Please do not destroy everything we have."

"Christine!" he exclaimed again, tightening his grip on her arms. "Have you gone mad? Has he brainwashed you...threatened you? He...he did nothing but terrorize us for months...lying to you and trying to kill me. And Ames? Christine...did he...?" Raoul shook his head and looked intently into her eyes, trying to find some hidden misery that she was not revealing to him.

"I cannot explain every detail of the past few months. But...I am deeply in love with him. I always was...though perhaps...was too young to understand it for a while. I shall not deny that there are difficulties...but...he...he loves me. He shall never harm me...ever." She paused before she said the next part. "And Laurent...Laurent was not a good man, Raoul."

Her eyes confirmed that Ames was indeed dead, and he shuddered. "You expect me to walk out of here...knowing you are married to a murderer...knowing he has killed my friend. I cannot do that. If something happened to you...it would be my fault."

"Raoul," she said, holding back tears of panic. "Please...if you care a thing about my happiness. If you truly care about me...let me live in peace. Laurent's death was done in self-defense. He...he could have killed both of us that night."

The Vicomte wiped a hand over his face in exasperation as her eyes pled desperately with him. If she were truly miserable...would she have told him by now? They could have been far away... contacting the police. He sighed and thought deeply for a moment. Grabbing her shoulders firmly, he looked her directly into the eye. "You are truly here of your own will? You are truly happy? Do not be afraid, Christine. Look me in the eye and tell me the truth." Her brown eyes met his blue ones completely.

"I am truly happy. I am in love with Erik." She spoke with a resolve he had not ever heard in her voice before, and he released her shoulders, letting his hands drop limply to his sides. A strange expression...almost one of defeat crossed his face.

"Very well, then," he said with a sigh. "I...I shall not ruin your happiness. I will...leave you in peace. But...you know where to find me if you ever need me. If he ever, ever lays a hand upon you...threatens you..." His voice tapered off.

She softly embraced him in the dim light. "I promise that he never will, Raoul. But thank you." She paused. "You have been a good friend throughout everything, and I do appreciate your concern. Take great care of yourself and find happiness with someone else, my friend." He held onto her momentarily...memories of the past flashing through his mind. Then he let her go.

"Goodbye, Christine," he said softly. "Take care of yourself as well." She nodded kindly at him, her face aglow with a peace he had not seen her possess since her father was alive. She was truly happy.

Slowly he turned and walked away, down the dirt path and into the remaining sunlight. His footsteps crunched lightly against the dried leaves upon the ground, and a cool breeze continued to blow softly. The Vicomte felt a vague, empty feeling consume him as he came closer to the carriage. It was the first time he had accepted her as gone...as no longer needing him after all those months. He still didn't understand it completely...and he did not like this Erik...did not trust him. But...Christine truly loved him. She must have seen some good in him.

Waving to his driver, Raoul had just begun to enter the carriage when he suddenly stopped and turned around. Had he imagined it? Christine screaming...calling _his_ name? Perhaps it was wishful thinking. He shook his head and began to climb in again with a sigh.

"Raoul! Oh God! Help me! Come back! Please help me! Raoul!"

No. It was real. Her normally soft voice echoed throughout the depths of the woods...filled with pure fear and panic.

Grabbing his pistol with his uninjured arm, Raoul jumped from the carriage and raced back to the house...various horrific scenarios flashing rapidly through his mind.


	24. Chapter 24

**Quick Note: I know I said only one chapter after this...but I kind of out-cliffied myself. Lol. In other words, there are a few too many things to be resolved for only one more chapter. So...look for a couple more. Hope you enjoy! Reviews are always appreciated!**

Christine stood frozen between the dark forest and the stone house, screaming in one direction and looking fearfully back toward the other. Panic gripped her throat, and her heart beat rapidly inside of her chest. She felt completely helpless to do anything. With another deep breath of air, she again shouted the name of the only other person who could help her. "Raoul! Help me! Please Raoul!" What if he was already gone? She would truly be alone.

To her utmost relief she saw her old friend running back toward her through the trees, a silver pistol held high in the air and ready to fire. Branches snapped under his feet, and he looked frantically around for something to aim at. At the sight of Christine he cautiously lowered the weapon and ran up to her, not able to see the cause of her distress. "What on earth is wrong, Christine?" he asked out of breath, as he looked upon her terrified expression.

She ran to him and clutched onto his shoulders for support, tears streaming down her flushed cheeks. It took her a moment to say anything. "A doctor," she finally choked out. "The medicine...is gone." Raoul stared at her in complete confusion. Finally she managed to compose herself and become somewhat coherent. "Erik...he has...collapsed. I came back...and he had fallen...and his eyes are closed. He will not talk to me! Oh Raoul!" She sobbed again before continuing. "The last time...there...there was medicine, but it is empty. I need a doctor." The Vicomte looked at her with his mouth slightly agape as he attempted to take in what she was saying.

"It is...you...show me where he is," Raoul finally managed to stutter out, tucking the pistol in his jacket but still making sure he knew exactly where it was. The two made their way back to the side of the house in the dark, groping their way through the thickets of trees. She could feel the twigs tear at her bridal gown as she passed them, ripping at her veil.

Once finally there, Christine grabbed a lantern from inside, lit it, and came back out. Hands shaking she walked over to Erik's still form and held the light over it. Raoul very cautiously stepped up beside her, half-expecting the Phantom to suddenly jump up from the ground.

"He is still breathing," she murmured thankfully, looking at his chest. "...but his heart...I..."

"You need to...find the pulse, Christine. On the wrist." At this moment, Raoul had blocked all past emotions from his mind...reverting to pure systematic reason. Her hands fumbled as she tried to find the spot of the artery and a look of panic crossed her face. The Vicomte sighed and wiped the sweat from his brow. "Here...you are not...let me do it." With much anxiety, Raoul took the Phantom's arm and placed his two fingers over the wrist. Feeling a weak but steady beat, he quickly set the cold limb down. Christine looked up at him expectantly. "Yes...there is a small one."

Her features took on some relief, and she searched for something else she could do to help her beloved. "Oh!" she gasped suddenly. "He cannot breathe very well with the mask on." Christine removed the porcelain piece in one motion, ignoring the Vicomte's deep intake of air as he gazed upon the right profile for the first time.

"Good God," he murmured quietly, quickly averting his eyes. After a moment, the Phantom's breathing did seem to become more eased with the mask gone.

Christine whirled to face her friend, fear still plastered upon her pallid face. "Raoul...a doctor. I...I need one. Maybe if we hurry..." He stared at her desperate brown eyes for a moment, knowing she did not want to leave her husband alone outside. Had anyone told the Vicomte that his night would be spent doing this, he would have laughed at them.

"I...will go try to find one, Christine," he said softly, standing up. "You stay here. It may take several hours." She let out a soft cry of something between misery and relief and embraced him.

"Thank you, Raoul. Oh...please hurry!" her voice came out as almost a sob. "Thank you so much!" Raoul grabbed a lantern and made a swift dash back into the darkness. She watched his retreating figure for a moment, knowing deep down that it was not necessarily in the Vicomte's best interest to help her. All she could do that night was trust him, though. Turning around, she knelt back down next to her husband, spreading her lacy white dress out around her.

Christine sat there and gripped his frigid hand, begging him out loud to come back to her...to say several words to her...to open his eyes. He did not...the only sign of his continuing existence being his rising and falling chest. After a while, the ground began to grow cold, and she shivered, wishing there was a way to get him into the house. She got up and retrieved a patchwork quilt from inside. Sitting back down in the damp dirt, she spread the blanket out over both of them and became as comfortable as was possible. Somewhere an owl called out and some small creature scampered through the woods, breaking branches as it ran.

There was nothing she could do now but wait. Leaning down, Christine softly kissed Erik's head and cheek. Every so often she would place her two fingers where Raoul had placed his to make sure that the pulse continued to beat. Finally, exhaustion overtaking her, she lay down beside him and placed her arm over his moving chest. Closing her tired eyes, she fell into a very uneasy rest.

The soft crunch of footsteps awoke her from her slumber. Quickly raising herself up, she looked up and saw approaching lantern light. At first, her face fell in saddened disappointment as she could only make out Raoul's form in the distance. Within a couple of seconds, though, she saw another man, an older one, following quickly behind. He appeared to be clutching a bag of some kind. Quickly she jumped to her feet and ran over to them. "Raoul! You came back!" she exclaimed with relief.

The Vicomte nodded. "How...is he?" he asked cautiously.

She sighed, a tear falling out of her eye. "He is the same. Unconscious but still breathing." She turned to the other man, awaiting introduction.

"This is Doctor Lamark, my family's physician. He was the only one I knew to go to this late. I am sorry if we were too long."

The doctor approached. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Madame," said the older man, kindly but tiredly. "I am deeply sorry for the distress that you are experiencing tonight. Would you like to take me to your husband?"

"Yes. Thank you so much for coming doctor." He silently started to follow the Vicomte toward the direction of the house, but Christine called out to him again in slight worry. "Wait! There is something that you should..."

"I already told him..." interrupted Raoul. "He already...knows."

Continuing to quickly move forward, the doctor turned to her. "Madame, I am a man of medicine. There is little that I have not seen after several years of working within the military." She nodded uncertainly, and the three rushed to the side of the house. Holding up a lantern, the doctor bent down over the unmoving form. Doctor Lamark's head was turned away from her, so Christine could not see his initial reaction. If he was startled, though, it was only for a brief moment. He quickly performed several tests before turning to her. "I cannot say much right now, Madame. It could be anything. I should like to get him into the house, though. He is ice cold." Doctor Lamark turned to Raoul then. "Monsieur, would you please give me a hand."

Raoul looked confused for a second, and his face paled slightly. "Oh...uh...yes, doctor." Christine had to turn her head momentarily as the two men struggled to lift Erik and bring him up the front steps and into the house. Her husband appeared so terribly helpless...his body, so limp and frail. Quickly she took a deep breath of resolve, though, and followed them in.

"Would you light a fire, Madame?" asked the doctor kindly, noticing her distraught expression and wishing to keep her busy with something.

"Oh...Oh yes," she murmured, searching for kindling. Doctor Lamark and Raoul laid Erik upon the blue sofa softly. When she had a fire finally burning, Christine sat down upon a settee and placed her head into her hands despairingly as the doctor went about his work. Raoul plopped down upon the divan, fatigued from the many journeys he had made that day and still trying to fully comprehend what was happening. After what seemed like hours, the doctor finally left the sofa and came to where Christine was. She looked up at him, sadly but expectantly.

"Madame...there is little I can do. It does seem to be...related to the heart, and medicine has not...come very far when dealing with that organ." She interrupted him in panic.

"But...he had medicine. I just...it is empty. It came in a blue bottle! Cannot you give him more!"

The doctor sighed. "Whatever it was, Madame, it was likely at best an herbal remedy and at worst a complete placebo. There is no known...substance to treat serious heart ailments."

"But it worked! He was better afterward. Please..." She was nearly in tears again, her last hopes slowly being crushed. The doctor placed a comforting hand on her tiny shoulder.

"Madame...I did not say he was definitely going to die. Truthfully, I do not know. He may very well recover." Doctor Lamark's face became stern then. "But, and you must listen to me, should he get better, the only way he will continue on is to remain fairly sedentary. For a very long time, he must abstain from any physical exertion. Do you understand?"

Christine nodded frantically. "Yes, yes I understand." Slowly the doctor picked up his bag.

"I shall leave you now to rest. Should...conditions change for the better or worse, come get me. I wish you the best, Madame." The Vicomte got up and walked with him to the door.

"Is what you told her the truth?" he asked softly, as they entered the cool night air, a full moon now lighting up the landscape.

"More or less, Monsieur." He sighed. "But...if that man does pull through...well...I do not know how the poor girl will survive out here. It is so isolated, and he shall be in bed for some time if he wants to live any longer. Well...I suppose it is none of my concern. Are you coming?" Raoul hesitated.

"No...I think I shall..remain with her for the night...unless she asks me to leave. My driver shall take you home. Thank you very much for your help." The doctor nodded and left, and Raoul went back inside. Christine had knelt by the sofa and was grasping Erik's hand with both of her own, leaning her head against the cushion. She was softly murmuring what appeared to be a prayer of some kind. The Vicomte sat back down on the divan and stared into the fire in thought.

Christine looked up after a moment. "Do you want me to get the guest room ready?" she asked. "I...I appreciate you staying...doing everything you have done tonight."

He shook his head. "No...I am fine. You have enough to think about." Christine nodded in thanks and retrieved two wool blankets and two pillows. She handed one set to Raoul and took the second set to another sofa. After only a few minutes, the Vicomte had already nodded off in complete exhaustion. Christine sat up for a while in the dancing glow of the firelight, continuing to intensely watch her husband.

Throughout the rest of the night, she uneasily dozed off and on upon the sofa, getting up at least once every hour to ensure that Erik still had life within him...that his pulse continued to beat. As the early morning approached and the sky lightened, she knelt on the frigid wooden floor beside him and softly stroked his weary face. He seemed even colder than earlier...his breath shallow and more forced.

"Please," she softly pled, tears glistening in her eyes. "Do not leave me, Erik. I love you. I am so sorry for the times I have hurt you...Please...please...wake up. Please..." Her words came out so choked, she didn't even know if they were understandable. "I love you, Erik... Stay with me...I need you so much, my Angel..." She laid a kiss upon his marred cheek and clutched his hand tightly as if to keep him from going somewhere, a deep ache beginning to consume her entire body.

The Vicomte, hearing her sobs, awoke from his short sleep. Slowly he got up and walked over to her hunched form, hating to hear so much pain in her tiny voice. She looked up at her friend with her mouth in a heartbreaking grimace and her face streaked with streams of desperate tears. "Christine...I am so very sorry," was all he could whisper to her in solace, as he heard the Phantom's breath become more ragged.

"Oh...God, Raoul! He is not coming back..." she sobbed desperately. "Please," she pled, turning back to her husband. "I love you. Just wake up! Do not leave me. Please..." Raoul placed a hand onto her shoulder as she cried, feeling a vague sickness inside at her tears. "Please, God...Please...Please...Do not take him from me..." She stood up and whipped around, sobbing into the Vicomte's shirt, her tiny body shaking in anguish. "Erik...please...wake up..." Tentatively Raul held her, before slowly walking her back over to the divan where she collapsed in sorrow and exhaustion, continuing to cry and plead.

Raoul stood with his head in his hand for a moment, several tears falling down his own cheeks. Finally he turned and rapidly strode back to the sofa, furiously glaring down upon the Phantom's dark form. "You..." he began angrily. "You are going to give her up now...after everything? Damn you! I hate you! How can you leave her now?" He suppressed a sob before continuing, his voice growing louder over Christine's cries. "If you die, she will go with me! That is right, Phantom! She will go with me! How can you leave her now? How dare you leave her now!"

"Stop it, Raoul!" Christine choked out from the divan. "Stop..."

The Vicomte ignored her. "Damn it! Wake up, you selfish bastard! Look at her! You killed for her! Look at her, damn it!"

"Raoul! Stop it!"

"Look at Christine!"

"STOP IT!"

The Vicomte didn't hear her, though. He was suddenly silent. A look of strange peace had crossed his smooth, boyish features. Never in his life had he thought he would be happy to see those two golden lights furiously glaring up at him.


	25. Chapter 25

**Wow! I'm glad you liked the last chapter so much! Raoul was quite happy with all of the reviews as well! I don't think he's ever gotten so many kind words in all his life. Lol.**

**This chapter isn't extremely exciting...more realistic than anything I suppose. It's not the last chapter. Unless you really want it to be...Kind of angsty, though.**

Christine wearily looked up through her tears at Raoul, their earlier screams still ringing in her ears. The Vicomte continued to stand there and stare down at Erik with the traces of a satisfied smile upon his exhausted face. "Please leave him alone," she softly pled, burying her head into the divan cushion. "Just let him be..." She was slightly surprised when she felt Raoul's hand gently pull her up by her arm but didn't resist, only emitting a quiet sigh of protest.

She allowed him to half-carry her over to the blue sofa, a sickening despair filling her as she expected to see her husband's cold, lifeless body lying there. As they approached, she turned her head and averted her eyes. She couldn't look! "No, Raoul," she murmured. "I cannot...please."

"Turn around, Christine," he commanded softly. Reluctantly, she looked...blinking several times to confirm that her eyes were not playing a cruel trick upon her.

"Erik!" she mouthed, her face lighting up in blessed relief. "Thank you, God!" she hoarsely shouted. "Thank you so much! Erik!" Flinging herself next to his side, she laid a long kiss upon his cheek and gently held him against her...tears of joy falling from her eyes.

His yellow orbs blinked several times before finally remaining open. Vaguely he remembered seeing her running off into the distance in her flowing white gown...wondering if it would have been better if Christine's wedding night had been spent in the arms of the boy. Then the darkness had fallen very quickly...and a sharp pain had seared through his chest. He had soon found himself seeing every event of his wretched life at one time...a personal hell, so to speak.

Somewhere mixed in with the hateful words of his mother, the screams of frightened children at the gypsy carnival, and the blood red sun of Persia; he had heard her cries. He didn't know where he was really. _Was he outside of her dressing room mirror to give her a voice lesson? Perhaps she was crying for her deceased father. No. Likely _he_ was somehow the cause of her distress. He had probably screamed at her or frightened her in some way. Best to go and leave her now...Best to go into the darkness where all monsters belonged..._

Then had come the screaming of a voice he knew all too well and learned to despise. That wretched boy had dared to insult him! Christine's angry shouts had followed. Was the Vicomte hurting her in some way? The last phrase he had heard..._.Look at Christine!_...had forced him back to the glaring light. Now he found himself upon the sofa, looking between his sobbing Angel and the loathsome half-wit that had just been hurling insults at him. How the hell had the Vicomte gotten into the house? For that matter...how the hell had he gotten into the house!

Erik started to move with the intent of bringing some type of control to the situation but felt a sharp pain surge like fire through his shoulder, likely where he had smacked the ground upon falling. A duller ache persisted inside of his chest, making even breathing moderately painful. He was forced to lie there motionlessly as Christine continued to kiss him. When he felt her fingers delicately stroke his ravaged cheek, he let out a weak groan of disgust. His entire profile was on display...

Christine clasped his cold hand tightly between her own and met his eyes. " Stay with me now, Erik," she said as firmly as she could manage. " I love you. For the love of God, do not leave me again."

"Christine," was all he could manage to murmur at that moment without feeling like his chest was going to explode. Slowly he felt his breath come back to him, but the pain refused to leave. She continued to whisper words of love, not daring to let his hand go. Raoul had moved back to the divan, out of Erik's sight, and was lying there looking exhausted.

After a little while, the Vicomte stood up and stretched. "I guess I should find the doctor," he said to her quietly. "He told us to get him if...conditions changed."

Christine turned and smiled gratefully. Though dark circles shadowed her eyes, her face was aglow with pure happiness. "Yes...yes. Perhaps he can at least bring something for the pain. Thank you so much."

"No...Christine," Erik choked out in protest at the thought of another gawking human entering his home. If only he could get up and put an end to this. All he had wanted was to start a life with his wife...with his Angel. Was it really too much to ask? Must he be damned to be so miserable!

Christine turned back to him. "The doctor has already been here once, Erik. Please...maybe he can help you." She looked on him with deep longing and desperation, her doe eyes begging him to stay alive. His only options were to die or continue to helplessly lie there. Death was looking more amiable at the moment. Feeling Christine softly kiss his forehead, though, he chose to continue his earthly existence.

After Raoul had departed, the couple continued to stay like that for some time. Christine leaned against the sofa, grasping his hand, and Erik continued to try and get his breath back, despising being bound to the couch like an invalid. Finally he managed to come out with a coherent sentence. "Christine...why...why do you...not...just go? Leave me..."

"No!" she said with a gasp, then quickly calmed herself down. "Erik, I love you. You were there for me when my father died...and you gave me my voice...and you saved me. Please...do not talk that way. Do not leave me alone. I want to be your wife. I want to spend my life with you."

"I have made you miserable..." he whispered.

She smiled weakly. "You can be...quite difficult at times, but I love you anyhow. Stay with me." Christine brought her mouth next to his ear. "Stay with me, my Angel," she said softly. "Please."

They were silent for a moment until Erik glared in remembrance. "The boy...was in my house all night?"

"_The boy_ helped me dearly. If he had not been here...well..." she choked back a sob and squeezed his hand. "Then you would not be here."

"I still hate him."

"I know."

* * *

Several hours later found Raoul treading his way through the bramble with a very tired Doctor Lamark in tow. Neither man had gotten much sleep last night, and it was all they could do not to make out a bed in a pile of leaves. A cool gust of wind helped to wake them up some as did the glaring April sunlight. 

"Doctor..." began Raoul, being careful to choose his words. "I just wish to warn you that...this man can have quite a...foul temper."

The doctor chuckled and yawned at the same time. "Well...any man who is forced off his feet is bound to be a bit cranky, Monsieur."

Raoul hesitated. "That is not exactly what I meant." They were at the house now, though. As they approached the doorway, Christine came running outside, a tired smile lighting up her face. Doctor Lamark nodded at her in greeting.

"Hello, Madame. I must say that you are looking in better spirits this morning."

"I feel much better, doctor. Early this morning...I was so terrified! I thought..." she shook her head as if to rid herself of the memory. "But anyhow...he is awake now, thank God!" The doctor nodded kindly.

"I am very happy for you, Madame." He then went inside to his patient. First, he noticed that a white mask had been placed on the right side of the man's face. The second thing he noticed was the look of extreme contempt he was currently being given. Had the man not been bound to the couch, Doctor Lamark would have been slightly nervous.

"Good morning, Monsieur," he began cautiously. "How are you feeling?"

"Just wonderful, Monsieur," came back a choked reply.

The doctor ignored the sarcasm. "Are you in any discomfort?"

"If I were not, I would not be uselessly lying here." Christine jumped in quickly, as the conversation was going nowhere.

"I think that his heart still pains him, Doctor. And I think his shoulder was injured when he fell." The doctor nodded and turned to her.

"Well...I shall provide something for the pain, then. As far as everything else goes, the best advice I have is to stay down for quite some time. Anything that increases the heart beat could be hazardous. That is all I can say...that is all any doctor would likely say, though you are welcome to find a second opinion."

The doctor took out a small glass bottle of liquid and placed it upon the table. Normally he wrote prescriptions, but, seeing such an isolated location, he had anticipated needing a pain medication and taken it for the poor woman's convenience. Sensing he was not quite welcome there, he made his way back to the door. Christine followed him outside with a distraught expression. "Will he be well soon, doctor? I am worried still. He...he seems so weak."

The doctor sighed. "It is...difficult to say how long it will take for him to recover. He may never quite be the same. You will have to have a hand in ensuring that he does not exert himself in any way. He is...quite lucky to have you, Madame."

"I shall," replied Christine quietly. "Thank you for coming."

"It is not a problem, Madame. I am sorry that I could not do more. Have a good day." Christine walked back into the house and looked up at her surroundings, wondering what she should do next. Raoul sat in a settee that was out of Erik's view and looked up at her. She quietly walked over to the sofa again and saw that Erik had fallen into a light doze. After checking to make sure that his breath was coming normally, she turned and walked to the window, mindlessly looking out at the green spring landscape. Raoul came up beside her.

"Is everything...all right?" he asked. "Did the doctor...tell you of anything else?"

She sighed. "No. He cannot do much. I suppose time can only tell."

"I...plan on leaving soon, as I doubt that the...your husband will appreciate me here when he wakes up. But...I am quite worried about you here in such isolation. How on earth do you plan to get your needs met? The nearest store is miles away." He stared at her intently, and she looked at the ground.

"I shall manage," she replied, attempting to sound strong. "We have a garden..."

"With two tomatoes...? Christine, you should hire help of some kind. I would like to at least...send my servants up here once or twice a week to check on you...bring you some food and other necessities. Make sure you have not starved to death..."

"No, Raoul," she interrupted. "I shall be fine...I..." her voice tapered off in realization of what lay ahead. "At least let me pay you for it until I can find my own help."

"Christine..." he protested. "I am not exactly struggling financially."

"No...I shall pay you for this." Quickly she ran to a desk drawer and took out several hundred francs. Counting them out, she handed them to him, ignoring the look of exasperation on his face. Quietly the Vicomte gathered up his coat and prepared to go. The doctor had brought his own transportation that day, and Raoul's driver was waiting out front. Christine walked with him to the door.

"Thank you for everything," she said softly. "I am sorry everything was such a mess in the past. But...well...thank you so much for what you have done."

"I was...happy to help," he replied back quietly, a vague sadness in his eyes. "Please take care, Christine. I shall...inform Madame Giry of your situation. Perhaps she can be of help as well."

"Thank you," she replied. "I hope you are able to...return to your old life and find some happiness after all of this."

"I wish you happiness as well, Lotte. Good luck to you." With a nod, he departed into the forest, and she watched him go for a moment. Turning around, she went back inside, checked on Erik again, and then went about daily household chores to keep herself occupied.

Taking an old rag, she dusted off the wooden furniture a bit and then picked up several stray items from the ground. Seeing nothing left to do downstairs, she ascended to the second floor. Coming into their bedroom, she carefully made up the bed from the last night that they had slept in it. She fluffed out the goose feather pillows, spread out the white cotton sheets over the mattress, and straightened the bed skirt. Finally, she smoothed out the bed spread until there was not a single crease left, ignoring a very faint sadness in the farthest corner of her mind.

Looking in a hanging mirror that she kept in a far corner on her side of the room, she realized that she still continued to wear the bridal gown...or at least what was left of it. She had run around in it so much that it had become very torn and tattered, some of the lace hanging off in shreds. Quickly, Christine changed out of it and put on a plain blue house dress. After running a brush through her tangled curls, she left the little bedroom and went back downstairs. Her footsteps seemed to echo emptily against the wooden steps.

She stirred the fire several times to keep it going, as it was unseasonably chilly out that day. Her stomach growled twice, and Christine realized that the last thing she had eaten was a small sandwich right before her wedding. Taking several slices of bread and a jar of strawberry preserves, she made a quick breakfast. Last, she heated a cup of weak tea to wake herself up a little. It was rather bitter, but she liked the warm, soothing feeling it placed in the pit of her stomach.

Settling herself upon the green divan, she diverted her eyes between the flames of the fire and her sleeping husband.


	26. Chapter 26

**This was one of those chapters that kind of wrote itself. Not much to say about it...**

**I really am grateful to everyone who has read this story. Your reviews have meant a lot, and I appreciated every one of them. **

**Here's the last chapter of "A Winter's Decision." **

_Two weeks later..._

Raoul stared absentmindedly out of the enormous front picture window of his estate at the heavy spring shower. The monotonous pitter-patter of the falling droplets almost made him dozy, despite the fact that he had just awoken two hours ago. A blazing fire roared in the fireplace, sending both warmth and flickers of light throughout the vast sitting room. Somewhere in the back, several of the maids chattered while they went about their dusting and sweeping. The high roof creaked as a gust of wind viciously assaulted it.

The Vicomte attempted to keep his mind occupied with his current work, particularly several land deals that still needed to have the kinks worked out of them. It was rather difficult to stay focused on such tedious items after everything that had occurred. It all somehow seemed trivial in the scheme of things, and he wondered if he should leave the country for a while...clear out his head. Of course, if he did that, his brother would accuse him of neglecting his duties. Raoul's entire family was still irritated about the whole incident with Christine, even though the engagement had been promptly called off.

With a sigh, Raoul glanced at the silver clock on the mantlepiece and quietly groaned. It was already nine in the morning, and the rain was coming down harder than ever. By the ominous clouds that continued to flood the sky, it was obvious that it would still be pouring by noon...the time of the funeral.

After it became obvious that Laurent's body would never be found and no trace was discovered of him leaving the country, Monsieur Ames was presumed dead. It was decided by his relatives that a service and burial would be held with an empty casket. Speculations still ran throughout the aristocratic circles, but no one could come to any conclusions. Of course, Raoul felt obligated to attend the funeral. In more ways than one, he felt responsible for the man's death, and, even though Laurent obviously had problems, he had considered the man a friend for many years. Plus...if the Vicomte did not attend, it would surely arouse suspicions, as he had apparently been the last one to see Laurent that fateful night.

With a sigh, Raoul got up from the warmth of the velvet cushioned armchair and made his way upstairs...hoping that it would not take too long to find a solemn black dress suit. Putting it on would be difficult enough, as his arm still remained in a sling. Another gush of wind shook the enormous house, furiously rattling the manor's windows. If ever a funeral were to be cancelled, today would be the day to do it.

Somewhere in the back of his mind...far away from thoughts of business negotiations and daily obligations...he allowed himself to wonder how she was doing. Perhaps he always would wonder. But he truly did wish for her to have happiness in her life...even if he was not a part of it...

God knows...if anyone deserved happiness in this life, then she did.

* * *

Christine did not know whether it was the steady patter of rain against the roof or the slight twinge in her ankle that awoke her that morning. Oddly, the two seemed to always coincide these days. Whenever foul weather made its way through the area, her formerly broken joint would begin to ache...almost as a sort of reminder to everything that had occurred. It wasn't terribly agonizing but was noticeable nonetheless. 

Groaning softly, she attempted to find her way back to sleep. If it continued to pour all day, she would need all of the rest she could get in those last few hours of darkness. From the water stains that dotted the wooden floors, she suspected that there were several leaks throughout the house. Today she would be forced to find their locations and plug them up somehow...or get an old bucket and at least prevent the wood from rotting through. Given that she knew very little about repairing houses, the buckets would probably have to make do.

After stopping the water from entering the roof, she would need to go outside into the rain and make sure that their possessions were carefully covered. The last thing she needed was a carriage that was rusted over and in a state of decay...and of course, the horses would need to be sheltered and fed. She sincerely hoped that the brutal wind would not completely destroy their garden.

Realizing how much there would be to do outside of the house, Christine decided that she had better get an early start on the chores that awaited her inside. Cursing the typical spring weather, she turned herself around and climbed out of bed, shivering in the cool dampness of the room. Standing up and stretching, she ignored the small pain in her ankle and turned to straighten out the sheets and comforter from where she had slept. Perhaps it appeared a bit messy, but at least one chore could be considered completed.

Christine Daae was not a stranger to bouts of fatigue or the aches of overworked ligaments. Years in ballet had given her many a pulled calf muscle or stretched tendon, and she had frequently collapsed into her bed after long dance rehearsals, grateful to give her tired body a rest from the exertion.

This was something different, though. Should she miss a step or fall behind in a practice or performance, the worse that would have happened was a stiff reprimand from Madame Giry or perhaps a chuckle from several audience members. Should she fall behind now, the consequences could be much more dire...starvation to name one.

Each day she had to make sure that there was still enough food within the pantries and enough kindling for the fireplace. If any of the few vegetables that they had grown were ripe, she had to quickly pick them before the ravenous insects had a feast. She was not looking forward to the day when she would have to journey into the city by herself and seek out a place to buy food and supplies. Really, Christine had no idea where the nearest market or produce stand was. She was quite thankful that she had taken up Raoul's offer to have his servants stop by with food every two weeks, though Erik would not have liked it if he had known.

The horses had to be tended to every night if they wanted to have any transportation at all. Basic household cleaning was another necessity...including sweeping, cooking, washing, and minor maintenance work. After this storm blew dirt and dust into the house, those activities would increase ten fold. The list of chores went on and on...an unending list of necessary tasks.

But the evenings of the last two weeks had made it all worth while. The evenings had made them the best days of her young life.

As the sky darkened and exhaustion overtook her, Christine would curl up on the blue sofa next to her husband...basking in the glow of the firelight and in his company. He would place his arm around her while she read or simply lay there in thought. Sometimes they would quietly chat...though lately silence had seemed more fitting to their moods. It was these moments in those weeks that kept her going...that made her happy with that distant winter's decision.

* * *

There was many a day in those several weeks when Erik wished he had made his departure from the earth that one early morning...if not solely for himself, than for Christine's sake. Watching her have to do all of the household work by herself, he was almost certain that his accursed life should have ended. Had it not been for her sake, he would have gratefully died, for he had not felt this helpless since he was a child...confined to a cage in a carnival while spectators gawked and screamed at his horrid visage. Yet...for her sake he continued on. For her sake, he remained sedentary as the doctor had ordered...disgusted with his weakness and, as always, disgusted with himself. 

It was only a few days ago that he could stand up without feeling like his heart was going to pound out of his chest. Everything that had once come so easily had become that much more difficult...making him more and more certain that the boy should never have called him back from the darkness. Leave it to the damned Vicomte to mess with his fate.

Of course, Christine said she was happy with things as they were, and he believed her to some extent. Like at this moment. At this moment, he was grateful that his heart continued to steadily beat. Right now, they sat together in front of the crackling fire in a tight embrace. She had dozed off in his arms with a novel in her hand, and he was simply enjoying the feeling of her lying against him. He watched her sleep, her dark eyelashes fluttering softly as her chest gently rose and fell...her red lips slightly parted. It was heaven in some ways and hell in others. She was finally completely his and yet he could not have her.

Christine stirred from her slumber and looked up at him with a small smile of love and contentment. Leaning up, she softly brushed his cheek with her lips and hugged him tightly to her. Slowly he brought his wife's head closer and kissed her more deeply upon her lips. She returned it on instinct, moving her lips against his and grasping onto his shoulders somewhat more desperately than she meant to. Hearing his rapid breath, she quickly drew back...a slightly ashamed look crossing her tired features.

He hated himself for a moment...for not being able to give her all that she deserved. A sick feeling enveloped him from the inside, one that gnawed at his stomach. "You should have let me go," he whispered. "All this can end in is more pain."

"No. No. Do not say such things," she murmured softly. "I do not care about any of that. I love this. I love being in your arms in the evening. I would rather do that for an eternity...than have one night...and then have you gone, Erik. Please believe me." She stroked her fingers over his face, several tears falling down her cheeks. "You will get better soon. It will...just take time."

He was not so sure...but he said nothing more to upset her. She would not shed any more tears that night on his behalf.

They lay embraced for a while longer in the firelight...both deep within their thoughts. The rain continued to fall outside, though she thought it sounded as though it were relenting some. After a moment, Christine moved to get up. "I need to see if the roof is still leaking," she said softly, brushing a strand of brown hair from her face. He gently held her back, though.

"Just leave it, Christine." She started to protest and then, with somewhat relief, obediently lay back down.

Though she would not admit it to herself, inside she knew that these moments could be precious.

Closing her eyes again, she leaned her head against his chest. After saying a quick prayer... Christine allowed the steady beat of Erik's heart to slowly lull her to sleep.

**FIN**


End file.
